


The Hunter Dossier

by woodburnb



Category: The Laundry Files - Charles Stross
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodburnb/pseuds/woodburnb
Summary: A Laundry Files and S.O.E based story set in WW2 and later. Outlining changes in SOE seen from perspective of new female operative drafted in from Bletchley park operations.





	1. 1978 South West London

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by stories from Charles Stross, and the non fiction history "The Bletchley Girls" by Tessa Dunlop

Chapter 1 1978 South West London

“What you fuckin looking at granny?” jeered the young man with the pins in his nose, the rest of the small group of punks just sniggered like the naughty school kids they were trying not to be. “Your hair, did you style it on the Spartan warrior Theriodes? There is a good image of him on a vase in the British Museum.” She said.

“Do what! what’s that?” he said

“Oi Toni she fancies your hair!” shouted a boy in torn tartan trousers.

“Will you donate some change for the British Legion, you get a poppy you know” she smiled at him.

The situation was now too confusing, with grannies eyeballing him and his friends jeering Toni was about to lash out when he heard himself say don’t be daft, just give the old biddy some coins and play the big man. The collection tin rattled again and as if by reflex he dug some coins out of his jeans and dropped them in the collecting tin.

“Here is a poppy for you, shall I put it in one of these badges?” she leaned forward quickly before he could move, and slipped the paper poppy into a badge on his leather jacket. “What about your nice friends? Would they like one too?”

Much quicker than expected the granny had gone from Toni and was busily extracting money and doling out poppies to the now awkward group on the pavement. With them now several pounds lighter but burdened with paper poppies the group of punks sidled off down the street, feeling vaguely better but less anarchic than before.

Exhaling deeply Helen now relaxed back onto her seat outside the off-licence on the High street. “This is getting harder every year” she thought.

“I thought you did very well young lady” said the dry as dust voice behind her. The sound sent nightmare flashes of blood and fire across her inner vision, as she spasmed to attention and tried to run away at the same time. But her tired old bones only turned her slowly to face the source of the voice.

“I won’t kill anyone for you, not again!” she blurted out before she could get control back over her nerves With his eyes gleaming and his stern facing twitching, was he trying to smile? The monster who looked like a 50 year old school master said “That will not be necessary, not this time Helen. How about we go and get a cup of tea? Hmm?”

The Tea-Shoppe was popular but today, strangely enough, no one wanted to sit near the neat and formal looking couple near the back, it just seemed too much trouble to go near them. Angleton glanced around and nodded. Helen having now recovered her nerves relied on her training to guide her hands, “Shall I be Mother?” she cooed as she poured the tea, while her thoughts scrambled to take everything in. There appeared to be no muscular young men in suits in the room paying attention to everything except for her and him. She could sense no one with ill intent to her in the shops either side. Angleton as always she was unable to read. Only the cat dozing in the Tea Shoppe window radiated predatory malice as it dreamed on.

“I hoped to never see you again, I went to a lot of trouble to make sure you could never find me” she said, after a sip of lemon tea.

“I always knew where you were Helen, I kept your secret from our organisation’s strange Ways and Means. You will find some of the old methods are no longer good management standards” Angleton said with an appearance of regret.

“So you are not here to…,what do the cousins say “Retire me with extreme prejudice”? She peered at him closely, looking for any kind of tell or clue to her fate, but Angleton was as always impenetrable.

“No my girl I’m here to offer you an intriguing posting”, he said.

“You offered me one before, if I had said no then, would all those people still have died?”

“War is always a difficult time” Angleton muttered past his tea, “It was then and it is now”.


	2. Whitby 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from whitby to Helen being co-opted into SOE

Chapter 2

Whitby 1941

Another grey, filthy, wet night on the cliffs near Whitby. The anti-aircraft guns near the ruined abbey were silent for a change and no raids were flagged up on the action board in front of Lieutenant Helen Hunter. The radio listening post she was assigned to was due for refitting and updating but as always there was a delay, the parts or technicians in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a war on after all. She was here to supervise the team of listeners at Whitby Station Y, attached to the RAF forward radar base North Sea North (Whitby), which boiled down to her and 6 young women sitting at radio morse sets listening and transcribing the clicks and pops that came out of the ether from over the sea, while a platoon of RAF squaddies patrolled the barbed wire surrounding their section of the base. The transcripts were sent off at 6 hour intervals by motorbike messenger to Station X, wherever that was.

          The rain in the dusk settled the damp into her bones with a shiver as she sipped the lukewarm tea and gazed around the drafty hut that was home for next 12 hours. The heating stove was out cold as the coal had not yet been sent from the RAF base across the road as requested because the Captain was a prig who could not get past her turning him and his bad breath down for a dance, nothing to do with the wrong requisition forms she fumed. If this went on for much longer she would suggest to Sergeant Collis to drop some bags over the wire in exchange for the emergency whisky bottle her father had sent in the last hamper.

Meanwhile the only source of heat was the valves on the receivers and the dim lighting. So she and her section were wrapped up in a collection of Army, Navy and RAF overalls, greatcoats and blankets. The signal traffic tended to improve in clarity during the evening so her girls, with the best language skills and hearing, always drew this shift in the rota. She had put out feelers through her mothers’ network to see if a better posting was available but so far nothing. To think before the war she was always lucky and got what she wanted. Well that all went to hell in 1940 with Eric’s death at Dunkirk. No time to get silly about that she thought, “Right then ladies it seems Captain Monroe is not joining us this evening so let’s get started” she said as she chivvied her section into place and the day squad eased their way out into the gloom to wait for the lorry to take them to barracks.

“I hear there is a new American film on at the Roxy in town” giggled Rita “so the Captain is taking that new WAAF lieutenant from the base, Mum”, as she handed over the clipboard of the first hour’s forms and chits for her to check.

“Rita how many times do I have to tell you it is Ma’am, not Mum. I am not going to give you milk and biscuits and tuck you up in bed!” Helen scolded, taking the clipboard from her without looking up from the paperwork she was already doing.

“That’s alright Ma’am I’d rather have Captain Monroe do that!” she giggled back as she trooped off down the hut.

Blooming children in uniform, thought Helen I may as well be back in boarding school. Her thoughts were interrupted with the sound of trucks pulling up to the gatepost. As she approached the door there came the noise of the organised chaos that was the Army doing something inexplicable, again.

“Right then Squad sounds like an inspection so I want everything top notch” she called back into the room, there was a slight tensing in the air as her girls went into high alert, and Lieutenant Hunter slipped through the light lock and outside.

          The rain had stopped but the 4 trucks did not look the better for it. There seemed to be swarms of armed men running around and as always shouting. Like a ghost Sergeant Collis appeared at her shoulder and muttered

“High muckety mucks Lieutenant, some orders from SOE in London, their Major wants to see you”, and faded back into the chaos.

A group broke away from the trucks and headed towards the hut and her. In the dark, most looked tired but at least two were different putting Helen on edge, her pendent under her uniform started to warm up. Her hand moved toward it then she quickly rapped off a smart salute as a voice of command said

“Captain Monroe is that you lurking there, my men have work to do and its already late. Show me the receiving station.”

“Apologies sir, I am Lieutenant Hunter and I am in command here, what are your orders and can I see your clearance?” bristled Helen

“Inside Lieutenant, it’s too damn damp out here”

“Sargeant Collis block the door, have your squad detain these men!” barked Lieutenant Hunter

Collis reappeared at the door with two men whose guns were definitely not, not pointing at the new arrivals.

“Yes Ma’am, Lewis take left, Clarke take the right”

Helen gazed at the scene as time slowed, she could see that the group in front of her had changed emotions, the shadow the voice came from was showing a bubbling red rage. The rest were just a confused grey but one was showing a flash of yellow laughter. He? stepped forward and muttered into the ear of the irate Major.

The red rage snapped out to be replaced by the grey gloom and time returned to normal.

“My apologies Lieutenant, but it has been a trying day. Here are my clearances and a copy of the orders.” A figure stepped forward and handed to her a file. She gripped it firmly and flipped it open, but it was too dark too see the writing.

“That seems to be in order, it is not often we get visitors from SOE, sir.” she said taking a gamble on the figure still laughing in fading yellow. “If you will follow me sir”

Helen showed the group inside, nodding at Collis as she passed.

          The group of men now, as always seemed to be the way, occupied all the space in the hut. Helen led the way to her desk and put down the orders open on the desk having read quickly through them in the light.

“Christ its cold in here! Sergeant Murphy get in here!” There was a clump as the wooden floor swayed under the weight of the new arrival. “Murphy, take that dick of a Lieutenant across the road to the base and see if he can use his map to find some blasted coal for this place” then he turned to face Helen.

So this is SOE, she thought, they appear to have better kit than my lads I wonder what Collis will be able to pinch.

The lead figure now turned and with an overly dramatic flourish threw back the hood of his duffel coat and with a shark smile introduced himself.

“Good evening Lieutenant Hunter, I am Major Sebastien Colhoun, SOE, and I have with me certain specialists who require complete access to your facility and the cooperation of you and your squad of brave ladies”, Behind her Helen could hear the sound of her “brave ladies” and their intense interest in the new arrivals as they continued to carry on working at the receivers. What distracted her most was the brief flash of heating her pendent had as Colhoun shimmered from film star good looks to non-descript Officer Hooray Henry in front of her. Still flummoxed by the change in events she relied on her instincts and saluted and replied “Sir”, always a safe bet.

“Now my specialists will require some time to make some adjustments to your machines and install some new upgrades to this site. I apologise ladies for the lateness of the hour, but I do hope that you will bear with us and cooperate in a spirit of true British stiff upper lip as these men work around you.” As he stopped speaking the light seemed to dim and the squad let out a breath that in an earlier war could be called a swoon.

“He’s gorgeous!” rang out a cockney voice as Rita made the feelings of the squad known, before an embarrassing shuffling of paper and a hustling of Rita to the back of the room.

Colhoun turned to Helen and his beaming smile faltered and he squinted at her as she appeared unmoved by his rousing speech.

Helen’s attention meanwhile had been on the “specialists” and the other one. She had seen so many upper class charmers before, that even a powerful one like Calhoun was no longer effective, of course she had her Gran and her pendent to thank for that skill. The specialists looked like your typical engineer Johnnies, who having entered a room filled with women had clumped together in a group like herring trying to avoid the tuna. Except for one who had wandered over to her desk and sat down! He seemed to be in civilian dress but nowadays that was not always someone to be ignored, he certainly behaved like he was in charge but was content to let Colhoun do the talking. Very odd she thought, was he the yellow laughter? He started to look up towards her but Colhoun was trying to get her attention so she turned away.

“Ah Lieutenant, now I have you attention I would like to introduce Mr Angleton who would like to debrief you on your report” Calhoun smirked. ”Then I would like to speak to you about your actions here this evening” There was a clatter at the doors that acted as a light lock as Sergeant Murphy and two men came in carry sacks of coal and what appeared to be two weeks rations.

“Murphy you diamond, get that lot going and I will have tea and a bacon sandwich” Bustle ensued, and Colhoun went outside to shout at junior officers.

“Lieutenant Hunter, if I may have a word please” came a scratchy voice in her ear as Helen tried to catch up on current events and get her mind off bacon sandwiches, even the squad had twitched at the words, as desire for food overcame their hunger for Calhoun.

Helen turned and stood beside her desk and saluted “Sir!”

“None of that please, Helen, I am not in command of you yet. I am here to discuss this addendum you attached to two of your last general reports. Do you know it is highly irregular for this to happen? That is why you have come to my attention. So what have you got to say for yourself?” said the figure called Angleton who looked like a 50 year old public school master.

But as Helen struggled for an answer she was struck by the fact that Angleton suddenly appeared to be the only solid person in the room and everyone else was a shadowy figure. The pendent her Granny gave her was pulsating both hot and cold as it dangled next to her identity tags

“Lieutenant Hunter, please concentrate, and tell me about the song!”

Helen snapped to and gulped, “The song sir?”

“Yes, the song”

“Well sir, it started about two months ago, and it is not really a song but more music but not really, more an idea about noise. I say have you heard of the Rite of Spring by that Russian Shostakovitz it’s like that but it’s wrapped around the morse that we are picking up. It is only on certain frequencies and not all the squad can pick it out, it’s like, it’s hard to describe sir. But it could be important, if the Germans are broadcasting it.” Helen wound down to a sparse silence filled only by the shuffling of the technicians as they worked on rebuilding each receiver.

The blood started to flush Helens cheeks as she now realised these men had come on her account to deal with a noise that was music that was not sound, that not many could hear. Christ I’ll be lucky if I’m only sent to the land army to shear sheep, after this, she thought.

“Hmm! Interesting. You have a talent, which is why we are here. I would like to hear it, so my men are applying some recorders from the BBC to a few machines to try and catch it.” Angleton mused.

“Mum it’s happening again” squawked Rita who was bent over her receiver with the headphones pressed tight around her red hair.

Helen seized the moment “Mr Angleton would you like to hear the song?” as she proffered a place at Rita’s station.

As Helen watched, Angleton took a pair of head phones and as he listened in at Rita’s station Rita busily transcribed the morse and whistled the discordant sounds through her teeth. It only lasted a few minutes but Angleton grimly nodded and went to talk to Calhoun who was now seated by the hot stove eating and drinking. Then even more noise and bustle ensued.

 

          It was now 3 am and the signal traffic had slowed so her section had clustered around the heater and food while there was still a chance. The specialists had finished upgrading the receivers, and now three of them were unrecognisable and sprouted strange coils and ticker tape reels. Her girls were looking suspiciously at them and the weary specialists. There was another two hours till shift end, when Colhoun and Angleton returned.

“Lieutenant Hunter, it seems you have presented us with a problem and an opportunity, so as Mr Churchill says desperate times call for desperate measures, you, your whole squad and this site are now seconded to Department Y of SOE. You will all need to sign these documents and swear a new oath.” said Colhoun passing over a large sheaf of forms.

“We have already signed the Official Secrets act” I replied stiffly.

“Not this version”, he smirked.

The final page once you deciphered the bureaucratise seemed to suggest that the government now owned you, body and soul for life and beyond.

“This is ludicrous” I spluttered, “I have to sign in blood?”

“But completely necessary, I am afraid,” said Angleton with a sad look, “There is a war on after all”.

“Now there are some advantages” continued Colhoun after all the paperwork was done, “to prevent any interference by your previous commanding officer, you Hunter are promoted to Captain, your section are all now Sergeants.” He nodded and one of the specialists passed across a sheaf of new orders, i.d. cards and sets of stripes and pips. There was a loud crump from across the empty fields “Ah yes, unfortunately this Radar Listening Station Y at Whitby was destroyed last night by a sneak German raider aiming for the air base. So that will be rebuilt on the other side of the road, this site is now allocated as Station Z Silver 2. You all now work for SOE and we now thank you for your patience and wish you success in the difficult days to come.”

Helen was feeling stunned as Colhoun and his technicians started to pack away, she stepped across from the desk to the cluster of newly promoted Sergeants, “ I don’t know what to say ladies, I had no idea”, she whispered.

“Don’t worry Mum, now I’m a Sergeant, I can order people about. Does this mean I can be a commando as well?” squawked Rita.

As she turned away, Angleton stepped to her and said, “Welcome to the Laundry, Captain Hunter” and then stepped outside.


	3. chapter 3 Whitby to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen moves from Whitby to London, is interviewed at Dansey House and her soft takeover of the Laundry

 

London 1978

            A small flat off a quiet road, a last look around, is this all I have got to leave behind? God, what a waste of life, all that hiding and now I can’t wait to get back.

A scruffy suburban train held outside a station in south west London, I idly kick some litter away from my seat and tut, my usual camouflage , a perfect stereotype of grumpy old woman to the rest of the bored carriage. The tannoy warbles and crackles a meaningless squawk. While appearing to grumble under my breath I scan my carriage and the rest of the train, The passengers are just the normal mix of tired, frustrated, bored humanity, none of their malevolence is directed at me and there is no sense of any incursions in the area so the delay is just the fault of British Rail, and not evil demons from another universe, for a change.

            Despite my nervousness about Angleton and his recall to arms, (tentacles?), my mind is drifting back to another train journey long ago, and the trouble that got me into.

 

1941

            Eight weeks after Colhuon and Angleton had changed her posting to more interesting. Helen received a train warrant and new orders to report to Whitehall, London, by Monday.

Eight weeks of hard work organising her new command. Eight weeks of training and delegating her expanding squad; retraining the new recruits, the double shifts, the constant bureaucratic turf wars with Monroe over personnel and supplies, until finally she had Station Z running seamlessly. Eight weeks of encoded radio chatter from the Germans sent to Station X, the special summaries straight to SOE.

Eight weeks of hard slog so that now someone else will benefit and I have to go off to do God knows what, somewhere else! She fumed.

It was very touching the way her girls had gathered at the end of the last shift and gave her gifts of sweets and cigarettes and a homemade card. “You soppy lot” she told them. They were all crying by the end, especially after Helen had handed out the last of her civilian clothes, the shoes, stockings and perfume that she said would not fit in her kit bag.

Now she was on a train from York to London, her reflection in the window becoming clearer as the dusk settled. She had managed with a sharp word and a glare to clear a compartment of squaddies at York and now she occupied the officer quarters for this end of the train. Rank has its privileges, of a sort she thought, as she nibbled on the cheese and bread she had manged to liberate from the stores as she left station Z outside Whitby.

Her reflection revealed to those watching, a young narrow face, with brown eyes and a colouration that showed time in the colonies, a dark haired slender figure wrapped up in her army greatcoat. Of course there was nobody watching since Helen had decided she wanted some privacy. No one even thought of entering her compartment, Granny’s tricks coming in very useful, despite her Mothers warnings about her.

Mother had struggled hard to get her position in society and did not want that threatened by gossip about strange ways and mixed heritage. So Helen had always accompanied her Father on his tours of the tea plantations across Ceylon and India, with her grandmother. While mother stayed in Singapore with her younger brothers. Helen’s family of course having the kind of background that she thought was normal but everyone else thought not just exotic but melodramatic.

Her grandfather was the kind of soldier/spy that turned large parts of India and Asia into Empire. The rescue of the imprisoned Maharajah and his family and their (brutal) reinstatement led to promotion and a marriage. Of course Granny being the youngest daughter of a Maharajah and having had the training that in most times would be looked on with suspicion by European priests, meant that they would never be a conventional couple. Granny always joked her father had been looking for any excuse to get rid of her and her talents. Ten years spent moving from trouble spot to hell-hole dealing with the enemies of the Empire and no further promotion made Grandfather realise that an Indian bride was still a drawback for an officer and a gentleman. So he then resigned his commission and moved to Assam and raised tea. Then with that fortune moved to Ceylon and did it again. His eldest son was sent to Eton but returned relatively sane to then expand his father’s business across from India to Singapore to China and then Kenya.

Of course any man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife, so a minor aristocrat in need of funds found a daughter willing to overlook such eccentricities and a society match was made.

Helen was born soon after. The family fortunes expanded as did their family with twin boys and another daughter born over the next 5 years. By then Helen’s mother was glad for her mother in law to help and Helen became her Granny’s special project. Helen was a curious child and had a knack for learning. Languages and accountancy were easy, as they were the specials of the house. Mechanics she learned by taking apart the family Austin one summer and flying lessons were a doddle. Strangely enough British History, (well what other was there?) was always a blank to her, and of course she could not draw for toffee.

Her Grandmother had a special curriculum that though heavy on the Bhagadha Vita, the Koran, and other specialised texts was balanced by some practical skills. As a child she noticed how a quick prayer with Granny before an event had helped it go better. When she was a teenager she realised these prayers were actually subtlety changing the behaviour of those around her so that her wishes were more likely to happen.

After the unfortunate incident of trying to get a pet elephant for her eleventh birthday from her Father, a more rigorous grounding in the etiquette of such “skills” was enforced by all the family. When she was fourteen she was then packed off to Roedean in England for finishing off.

  

London 1941

            The train crawled into Kings Cross well after dawn, not that you would notice with all the steam, smoke, cordite and dust swirling around in the air. London’s dirt and smoke always filled her with distaste and the bombing had only made it worse by adding the tang of fear and desperation to the air. Helen managed to avoid the attention of RMP’s, spivs and the packs of feral children preying on the unwary and found the bus to Whitehall.

 

Meeting at Dansey House

            Having landed at the barracks behind Whitehall and dumped her kit, freshened up, she was on her way to her appointment at Dansey House.

            A discreet door in a Georgian terrace in a select part of Whitehall led to a hallway and desk guarded by a formidable sergeant major who gave her and her orders more than the usual scrutiny, after 5 minutes of polite but intense enquiries on her identity, he smiled and said, “Welcome to Dansey House Captain Hunter . You are expected upstairs in Mahogany Row for a meeting at 10 am. I will show you the way, please do not leave the waiting area or enter any of the rooms until invited. In the event of a fire or a raid please retrace your steps to this desk and then you will be allowed to leave safely. No other exit will be permitted. Please follow me.”

            With those unusual instructions Helen followed the imposing bulk of the sergeant major up a broad stair way until they reached a long corridor of 19th Century opulence. A solitary chair waited beside one set of double doors. “Please wait here Captain and don’t let go of this card” said the sergeant as he handed her a thick embossed card which reminded her of a visiting card from a Victorian novel, if that card was covered in a Sanskrit type script which disconcertingly seemed to change every time she glanced at it.

            “Well a meeting at 10am means I will have to wait half an hour plus another 10 minutes because I am a woman, so probably time for forty winks,” thought Helen as she tried to get comfortable on the chair. As she settled though, she became more aware of her surroundings and the subtle weirdness around her. The corridor looked like another top rank civil service area of plush red carpeting, mahogany wall panels and high white ceilings, with the occasional oil painting of some long dead worthy interspersed among the other sets of double doors. It was very quiet.

“No one has tried to be this politely intimidating since my interviews at Cambridge”, she thought. “Now why is that?” She settled again and began to meditate on her surroundings, the corridor that altered its length as she moved her attention across it was intriguing, and a sneaky glimpse of a length of corridor longer than the street outside almost made her giggle. The oil paintings were of course linked to viewers around the building, one to the sergeant downstairs and another to the room behind her, reassuring. The wall panels though were starting to get on her nerves. The intricate and repetitive patterning of the mahogany graining went beyond the wood workers art and strayed very firmly into some dark area. The patterning could not hide from her sight the flitting shadows of the trapped tree spirits as in their agony they kept watch over their tomb of wooden corridor. Distasteful though it was Helen was drawn back to their plight and began to make out the inscribed sigils of dark light woven into the wood that compelled the spirits in their relentless watch. Tempting as it was to tweak the spell to offer some respite to the spirits, caution about revealing too much won her over, “At least until I know what is going on” she thought. Reluctantly she centred herself and let the surroundings fade as she rested her nerves.

The creak of the door behind her and its attendant silent shriek from the wood spirit brought her back to wakefulness. A Wren asked her to come in. Damn their uniform is much nicer than mine, but at least she is not wearing the hat, Helen thought as she followed the girl into the conference room. There was a single chair facing a wide table with several assorted uniforms entrenched behind it, facing her. From the corner of her eye she noted, seated by the side wall, the man (?) called Angleton. It seemed a longer walk to the chair from the door than it should have been, but by now Helen was immune to such amateur intimidation. As she reached the chair, she stood to attention and saluted. She quickly studied the figures behind the desk and tried to judge the power relationships between them. The pendant beneath her shirt began to warm up against her skin and put her on edge. A figure stood and said “Now Captain enough of that, please be seated. I am Commander Colhoun and will be liaising with this committee and you on this matter of Station Z.”

“We have met before Commander, but then you were a Major in the Army” replied Helen coolly as she remained at attention.

“Ah, yes. I find that the right uniform in the right place can do wonders to move things along” he replied.

“Well next time try and be consistent, otherwise I would have to have you shot as a spy. Which would have been inconvenient for us all”, she retorted.

“Ha, she has you there, Colhoun” guffawed a tweed suit from behind the desk. “I told you that messing about with the uniforms would get you into trouble eventually. The services take a dim view of anyone not taking them seriously.”

“Please Captain be seated then we can proceed”, said a calm, authoritative voice of a senior civil service suit from behind the desk

There then followed without any other introductions an in depth quizzing over how she had organised Station Z Silver 2, since Colhoun promoted her to SOE. After a prolonged questioning over the procedures she used with the forms and stationary, (and for heaven’s sake the paperclips!), a call was made for tea, which was served by the same Wren who had been taking copious notes of the proceedings.

Over the lukewarm Earl Grey, Helen eyed up her inquisitors, the usual white, privileged males. Without the range of uniforms they could have been the senior faculty of any of the colleges she had seen at Cambridge, and one she was sure she recognised from there. Colhoun appeared to be the youngest, but with his glamour now transparent to her, he was edging out of his twenties. Angleton still sat rigidly in his seat watching events with disinterest. The power dynamics of the group still seemed fluid to her as each figure came to prominence during her interview. They seemed to be testing each other as much as questioning her. She was reminded of professors at that Maths conference in Leipzig in 38, politely looking for weakness in the knowledge of their opponents.

A severe figure in senior civil service garb coughed and brought the room back to attention. “Now gentlemen, if we can resume. Captain, please note the patterning in the carpet. Since you have signed the Official Secrets Act and it’s, ah special, provisions we are entitled to compel you to answer all our questions with the truth. Please do not attempt to dissemble or lie as it will make for unfortunate distress.”

Helen felt her muscles grow rigid in the chair and her pendent gave a brief pulse of heat before she felt herself now disconnected from her body and surroundings. The room grew shadowed and appeared to now extend to the horizon. She could no longer hear their voices but felt them as a buzzing pressure in her mind which made her feel like a butterfly at the end of a microscope. Then it became more unpleasant as the interrogation started again. She could not see her inquisitors but felt washes of emotion as they directed questions to her. Any thought of embellishing the truth made her squirm in distaste and choke, any thought of omission or lying brought on a spike of pain. There were pointed questions about her activities in attempting to decode and source the weird radio transmissions that had started all her troubles. There was anger and astonishment that she had triangulated the source of the emissions to a region of South East Poland, by mounting one receiver on a truck and driving half her squad from Whitby to Sunderland and then to Bridlington recording the transmissions there. They were not happy that she had realised that the transmission of the song was not even coded and was not even in German. There was a distinct annoyance when it was revealed she had made some progress in transcribing the strange wailing sounds into a mix of the ancient Sanskrit and Hindi she was familiar with.

The questioning stopped but Helen was still held rigid in the chair, her uniform now soaked in sweat and clammy, the dark bubble of compulsion now relaxing but still hovered around her. Then after uncounted years the compulsion was lifted and the room was brought back into clarity, the senior figure behind the desk glared at her. Helen could see from the faces around the desk that whatever was to happen next no one seemed happy with.

“Captain, will you please take a seat outside in the corridor while we discuss the information you have supplied”

Helen walked unsteadily from the room and sank gratefully into the chair.

“Well that was instructive! Damn women meddling in what they don’t know. I tell you she needs to be isolated before she ruins one of our operations!” fumed a tweed suit around a smouldering pipe.

“I do hope you are not suggesting something terminal, I know she is only from the colonies but she does have some interesting connections that could be troublesome if she was to disappear. We can’t keep “losing personnel in air raids”, questions will be asked. I have already had to deflect some polite enquiries from our friends in Whitehall on our methods,” replied the Chairman.

“She could be sent out to Singapore, do we have an operation out there? That should keep her quiet.” suggested another suit.

“No, it would be best if she was kept close by, so we can keep an eye on her,” replied a Navy uniform.

“We are not bloody baby sitters!” fumed the pipe smoking suit.

“One of us will have to take her on board”.

This suggestion was met by glum silence.

“Gentlemen, let me recap the salient facts here, with no training this woman has reorganised a listening post to give you the best data out of the 10 posts we have. She has also managed to pinpoint the source of Case Nirbelwind which now seriously implicates the Soviets, and started a translated code book that contains more than Smythe’s team have managed in a year. All this in two months! Never mind the elephant in the room, that is her obvious talent in the skills we were all brought here to use in furthering the war effort!“,

“All of which can’t be a coincidence, it should make you damn suspicious and have the women locked up or disposed of” blurted out the now plum faced pipe smoker, Smythe

“No. One of you will have to take her under their command. No more assets are to be wasted and as Winston says “action this day.””

A resounding silence fell around the room as serious men, seriously tried to appear to be thinking about it.

“Well I can’t take her into Germany even with her language skills, not with that colouration, she wouldn’t last 5 minutes. What about you Basil surely she would fit in with your lot in the Balkans?”

“Oh sorry no, matters are at a very iffy stage as I’m about to fly out through Greece to Albania, could not possibly justify diverting resources to training new bodies at short notice. Sorry,” replied Basil with barely concealed relief.

As the silence became uncomfortable, the chairman turned to Colhoun and asked “How is your training coming along with subject “Teapot”, Colhoun?”

“Excellent, could not be better, circumstances not withstanding” wavered Colhoun as he sensed the trap too late.

“Good, good, Then you will have the time to integrate Captain Hunter into the running of the Laundry. Maybe with the outcome that she would be useful eventually in setting up an office in Egypt or somewhere” declared the Chairman with a finality that caught Colhoun by surprise and left the rest failing to conceal their glee.

 

“Captain Hunter, due to your reckless actions in this case, you will be permanently transferred to the supervision of Commander Colhoun and his section of SOE, with the strong proviso that your behaviour is regularly monitored and reported back to this committee. You will report at 0800 hours tomorrow at the Laundry offices in Soho. You are dismissed Captain please wait outside”.

 

 

Next day

I arrived at the supposed offices of SOE in what appeared to be a disused Chinese wash house at 0755.

While waiting I toured the building “getting my bearings don’cha know” to any inquisitive challenges. Going on appearances there were plenty of girls in uniform from various services but I appeared to be the ranking officer in the building. There were also a smattering of middle aged men in suits doing nothing much but smoke and drink tea.

Colhoun arrive at 10.30 looking the worse for wear. In his wake he brought the suited figure of Angleton.

It took a while for Colhoun’s hangover to abate enough for him to get into his stride of man of action

“Well Captain I can see from your service record that you joined up in 1940, why was that? The Navy would be a logical choice for a girl of your class”

“My family has had some experience of military service in the East, and then when my husband was lost with most of the BEF at Dunkirk, it seemed time for me to do my bit, so the army was the logical choice.” I replied ignoring the girl comment.

“I see you went to Cambridge to do Oriental languages and Mathematics! I was at Oxford myself did Classics. Anyway enough about you now let’s get on to what I want you to do. You obviously have a sharp mind and some unorthodox skills which have now placed you in my hands, and I plan to mould you into a useful member of my team…..”

I ignored Colhoun for a bit as he got into his stride and studied the office, the room had an unlived in look with a desk and three chairs. Angleton occupied a chair at the side and was watching the proceedings with no emotion what so ever. I studied Angleton and could get nothing out of him even using my unorthodox skills. He looked like a minor public school master with overtones of psychopath, but that was not out of the ordinary.

“… and so I would like you to liaise with my secretary and report back to me next week.” finished Colhoun.

I quickly changed focus as Colhoun got to his point which was to palm me off for a week onto someone else. I quickly made a decision to go for broke. Colhoun had the appearance of someone who wanted to be a mover and shaker but without the hard edge to make it happen, he needed taking in hand.

I turned on all my “persuasive powers” and asked in a simper “ If I may Sir what is your most pressing desire for the furtherance of your help to Mr Churchill in this our most desperate hour of need” I know it was laying it on a bit thick but it never fails with males.

After a cough, a dazed clearing of the throat Colhoun replied “Well, I think in the desperate times that the country is now facing it is time for young, decisive thinkers to rise to the fore and take their place in the command structure of a new efficient modern fighting force, that will take the fight to the enemy and push back the limits of old fashioned thought and institute modern scientific methods. Eh, yes that. Why do you ask?”

I translated this as he went along to mean he wanted to get rid of the old sorcerers and put himself in charge. Fine by me since more than one of them would prefer me to be dead. The doors were thick but not totally soundproof especially if you were making an effort to listen.

“Well, of course with your leadership, we should be able to get this section of SOE running effectively within 3 months. Of course I would not want to complicate your planning of strategy for the effective implementation of the skills of the senior staff with mundane requests so with your gracious permission I would like to proceed immediately with the setting up of a committee to investigate and produce findings which could be brought to your attention for the further attention of senior members of staff to adjudicate and implement through a standing committee of mundane practitioners who would supervise the recommendations of senior officers.” I smoothly delivered.

Colhoun was stunned but rallied with the expected question “Who will be chairman of this committee?”

“Why you sir, no one else would be qualified” I simpered.

“That would be appropriate” he murmured.

Colhoun gazed at the ceiling and lit a cigarette then daydreamed on, I glanced at Angleton, he returned my glance then slowly winked at me.

Now I was the power behind a slightly scruffy throne but it was a start.

 

 

 

One hour later.

Surprisingly Colhoun’s secretary was also the Wren who had been taking notes at my “interview”. This raised some very interesting questions about who was reporting to whom and who was loyal to whom.

Time to clear the air I thought, over tea and some chocolates, as I cornered her behind her desk. The old girl network came to my rescue as I was at Roedean with a cousin of hers, and was a deb in the same year as her older sister, she also went to Cambridge but 2 years below me, she did a degree in Modern Languages. Her husband was lost on the Hood.

Daphne said to me “I must say, you have greatly impressed the staff here with what you did in Yorkshire, your exploits seem to have got very quickly around the building.”

“Why Thank you Daphne, I worked for a while in my family business so I know how important it is to be taking the minutes for all important meetings, especially involving men of a certain age. Now if I may ask, what do you want? And why?”

A long pause as tea was drunk and a new chocolate was chosen.

“I have done my bit, tried to do a good job, but in the last 6 months we have been drifting around in circles with at best contradictory orders and at worst unspeakable ones. You would think that some of the senior officers don’t want to win this war. I’ve tried to keep the best of the girls here with promises things will change but they see the likes of some of the officers we have had passing through and I am at the end of my tether about what to do for the best.” She finished with a sniffle.

Daphne was bright, organised and motivated but had no “talent” at all. She was mine for the taking.

“Well Daphne, I am really grateful for what you have done so far and I think we should get our heads together and plan out where we want our organisation to be over the next few months. You have arranged a team of highly qualified women who only need their talents recognised so that we can strike back at Hitler and win this war for good”.

As soon as the box of chocolates was done it was time to plot out the reorganisation.

SOE was a mess. It seemed that any sorcerer or deluded mathematician who could chant and still walk at the end had turned up at Whitehall demanding they be placed in charge of saving the Empire. They were all sent to Dansey House and the Laundry. They all demanded exclusive rights to all the resources but each refused to work with each other. Some were retained for their talent but most were returned to their colleges or a mental hospital. This left a core of 20 plus sorcerers who were capable and resourceful enough to focus on the task of saving the British Empire. These were then spread around Q branch SOE and given whatever task that came over from Whitehall and MI6. Whether this suited their strengths or competencies or not was irrelevant.

The whole mess needed some organisation. Helen was determined to impose that organisation whether the Laundry wanted it or not. She was clever, determined, “talented” and had her own tame senior officer to sign the paperwork. There would be no stopping her.

 


	4. London 1978. A return to tentacles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen returns to the Laundry, a work still in progress.

Chapter 4  
1978  
Surprisingly Angleton still had the same office tucked away in a stray corridor that he had had, when I had to escape the Laundry for what I thought was to be the last time.  
“You still have that machine!” I laughed, as I recognised the now antique data device. “I remember the costings nearly finished us off, you were lucky the Soviets had tested that H bomb or you would never have got it.”  
“It’s proved its worth several times over” glared Angleton as he stroked the machines cowl.  
“Then it is just like you James. It has been a very long time, and you still don’t look a day older. Whereas I, am but a weak and feeble old woman. Why am I here James, and what do you want?” I smiled wryly at him.  
“It seems that forecasting have refined what we know about Case Nightmare Green, which has led to a reappraisal of the core goals of this department and the methods it can utilise,” he said, sliding a file across the desk towards me.  
I glanced over at the cover but refused to take it. “I know the files James I was responsible for starting most of them. I also know that touching that file will kill me. Are you testing me James? I am disappointed in you”. I held his gaze as I performed a summoning that defused the death spell on the files binding. Then as I picked it off his desk said “Some tea would be nice James.”  
“You will find your clearances have been reinstated pending formal approval by Dansey House and Mahogany Row. All previous charges will have been cleared from the record upon your reinstatement at your previous grade, unfortunately back pay will not be forthcoming.” He said as he organised refreshments.  
I tuttered at this as I read the file conclusions, “I don’t think I can help you with this, I seem to remember we saved the world in 45, and in, what was it 54?” Angleton nodded, as I continued “But this is far future doom and gloom stuff”. I waved the file at him.  
“Best read the addendum from forecasting at the end” he said.  
“Oh dear” I whispered.  
“Yes, quite” he answered.


	5. Chapter 5 London to Station X and back 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1941 Helen organises SOE suborns Daphne and visits station X

Chapter 5 

London to Station X and back.

 

                Helen strode towards Colhoun’s office, with her latest committee proposals for the new Laundry staff warrant cards. The compulsion glamour on them was a very good idea she mused. She stopped stock still as the scene of horror unfolded before her. File boxes and folders were strewn about the office, and worst of all was the sight of Daphne, her Wren uniform distinctly bedraggled, her face tear streaked and sniffling into a hanky. The sight was so far removed from her usual impeccable efficiency that Helen was momentarily struck dumb.

                “I am so sorry Captain Hunter but Commander Colhoun is out on assignment today, can I take a message?” sobbed Daphne.

“Daphne, don’t be silly what has happened to you? Let’s get you sorted out now shall we. Tell me what has happened?” Helen said softly as she gave Daphne a hug and organised some tea.

“I was working late on the proposals for the staff reorganisation we discussed, so I was almost home as the air raid sirens went off again, I had hoped it was another false alarm, but I was wrong, the bombers’ engine noise reached me, then the AA guns opened up and the whole world dissolved into flashes and explosions, I thought it could get no louder but then the bombs started falling and their screaming shrieks had me cowering against a wall. I could not move, the explosions were so loud they were shuddering the ground and I was bounced off my feet and I fell into a basement stairwell. Then the whole street lit up and roared with flames. It was awful; it seemed to go on for ever. When the bombs stopped I crawled up out of the stairwell and by now all the buildings seemed to be on fire and I could see that the end of the street where my home was, well it was just burning rubble. There was nothing left. I staggered away and tried to get to a tube station shelter but they were locked up, I have spent the night under a pew in a church near St James’s. I have lost everything Helen what am I going to do?” whispered Daphne.

“Well, first off we will finish the tea and last of the biscuits, then we will get you sorted out, us girls have to stick together don’cha you know”, replied Helen. “You can't stay in the barracks, I wouldn’t keep a dog in there so you will have to share with me in my brother’s place. I shall get you indented for a new uniform and kit then I will take you there. You need to get some rest if you are to get back on top of the work. I need you here to run the fort, so don’t be silly and no arguing!” said Helen in a kind but no nonsense voice.

 

An hour later, Helen and Daphne strolled up to a pleasant townhouse in Chelsea, the door opens to reveal a tall, forbidding looking man in a blood stained apron holding a long carving knife.

A sudden gasp from Daphne as she stepped back, but Helen quipped “Well Jenks I see we are down to eating the cats!”

“Ah Miss Helen, your sense of humour is always welcome here”, replied Jenks without a pause, but with a brief twinkle in his eye. “As is your guest, shall I announce you both to Sir Tobias?”

“Please do and could you knock up a room for Lieutenant Winters here? She will be staying with us for the foreseeable,” said Helen as Jenks led them into a drawing room.

“Toby, darling I thought you were off in Southampton, buying and selling.”

“I was but the Ministry started showing some sense and have agreed to fund the new production line for the new model Spitfires and signed the contract this morning. So I am at a loose end for a day or so, till I’m off to Liverpool to meet the Americans. But enough of me do introduce your companion.”

“Toby, this is Daphne Winters, we were at Roedean and Cambridge together and she works for the same office as me, at the moment. Daphne this is my younger brother Toby, don’t be put off by his middle aged accountant camouflage he can be quite good fun, Toby I’m afraid Daphne got bombed out last night, can she stay with us for a while?”

“Of course, Daphne you can stay, no I will hear of no objections, it will be nice to have more souls in the house, Helen is never as much fun as she thinks she is and well you have already met Jenks”, sighed Toby as he took Daphne’s hand and led her to the door. “Jenks, ah there you are, Lieutenant Winters here will be staying please show her to a room, and get the maid to organise a bath and some of Helens clothes for her. I’ll just have word with Lady Helen and then you can serve some tea.”

“Well Helen I received another telegram from Mother today, asking about you. No don’t look like that I have her safely stashed away in Cape Town with Father, he’s doing better, but well you know he will never fully recover. She wants to know when you will be remarrying.” smirked Toby.

“Ha, more than likely she is plotting to have you married off, now you are running things here in Blighty, have you heard from Timothy lately?” she replied.

“Not since last month, he is still in Singapore, hopefully sorting out the relocation back to India. I still don’t take the ministries reassurances seriously, not with how the Japs are behaving in China,” he mused. “Anyway back to your waif and stray, what’s the story there then?” he asked with a raised eyebrow “More than just the old girls network?”

“Well, Daphne is an acquaintance from before the war and she does work in the same department with me, and she was bombed out last night, and what with her husband dying on the Hood she has been through a lot, and I thought we could do our bit to help, don’t you know!” explained Helen.

Toby just looked at her. “Well, also she could be useful to me in this new department of SOE I told you about, I could do with all the allies I can get and I am sure handled carefully she can be a useful asset. No don’t look at me like that Toby, I know what I am doing”

“As long as you are careful Helen, I know you don’t want me interfering but I made some discreet enquiries about your new department and I can’t find anyone willing to talk, which is most disquieting. Helen, you know how much our circles like to use information as currency, you will have to tread lightly. The ship of state leaks most from the top, but someone has gone to great lengths to plug any leaks about your department Q”, he stated with a serious tone.

“I think that is why I will need Daphne, and well she is as close to a friend I have at the moment,” replied Helen as she stared out of the window at the rising smoke clouds over the east of London.

“Ah Jenks the tea at last, serve away old man.” Toby quipped.

 

After insisting that Daphne be signed out for two days to recover Helen returned to the office.

Commander Colhoun was in his office fussing about. “Ah Captain Hunter, where the hell is Winters?”

“I have signed her off duty for two days. She was bombed out last night so she will need some time to sort out accommodation and the paperwork with Personnel and the Navy.” Helen replied as she sat down in front of his desk. “I have assigned Corporal Perks to fill in as her for you until she returns to duty” smoothed Helen. “Put the tea on the desk, Perks and can you make a start on the roster duties I showed you. Thank you that will be all”

“Well as long as all is in hand, Hunter” said Colhoun, “Now about these warrant cards, a bloody good idea that committee of yours came up with, though if they work I will miss the dressing up in other uniforms. Not sure about this other suggestion though of departmental reorganisation of specialist staff, they can be a bit touchy”.

Before she could reply Perks returned with a flimsy and handed it straight to Colhoun. Who read it with an air of increasing annoyance.

“Damn and blast it, just what I need at the moment. Damn boffins can’t be trusted to do anything properly. Well Hunter, it’s time for a bit of action and about time you saw Station X. Get your coat, and meet out the front in 20 minutes. Perks! get on the phone to Transport and get a car fully fuelled, for a two hundred mile round trip,” he ordered as he rose into action.

Station X was a converted mansion house and grounds north of London, the drive there revealed a lot to Helen about Colhoun’s driving skills which seemed to consist of using the horn instead of the brakes. He stayed tight lipped about what they were doing until he pulled into the estate grounds which appeared to have been converted into a small village of prefab huts.

The guard post were very thorough with checking their identities and the searching of the car. So Colhoun was very impatient when he arrived at the Commandant’s office. He ordered Helen to remain outside but returned within 10 minutes and appeared to be fuming inside.

“As I thought damn boffins, can’t be trusted to do the simplest job without cocking it up. Well you may as well know the story since I will need your help. This is Station X where your radio transcripts from Whitby were sent to. They have all sorts of professors and maths bods trying to crack the Nazi codes, we as department Q, keep a couple of Huts here to deal with the more specialist areas like that transmission that brought you to my attention. Now it seems one of the Oxbridge lot working for Smythe has gone and buggered it up and sealed off the hut” he explained as they worked their way through a maze of huts to approach a cluster separated from the rest by a wire fence. One hut stood out from the rest what with its windows glowing green and the thick layer of frost surrounding it. There was a high pitched keening sound on the edge of her hearing. Helen’s normally dormant pendent started to heat and pulse against her chest.

“Damn not again” fumed Colhoun “stay behind me as we go in and don’t touch anything or anyone, where is your gun?”

“I am a woman Commander, we are not allowed to carry weapons” Helen replied witheringly.

“Double damn, Captain you are in SOE, normal rules don’t apply, here take this” he said as he handed over his Webley, “it is loaded with special ammunition, don’t shoot it at me!” he snarled as he stormed off to the now vibrating doorway of the hut.

The noise was now really getting on Helen’s nerves. She gave Colhoun a few paces head start then began to sub vocalise her chants that brought on a protective bubble about her.

Colhoun reached the doorway, which was now heavily coated with ice and looked frozen shut. He muttered to himself and instead of reaching for the door handle did a complicated pass with his hands. The door exploded inwards with a crash and a scream as writhing tentacles shot out grabbing Colhoun and dragged him inside. Helen now had her hand wrapped tightly around her pendant and was chanting nonstop in Hindi. Her protective bubble hardened into a glistening sphere, pointing the revolver at the now violently shaking hut she stepped forward. Inside it was strange and strangely calm, There was a desk with a figure with glowing green eyes hunched over a complex looking typewriter with his arms flailing about, there was a disc of blackest night hovering in the centre of the far end wall of the hut and there was Colhoun being slowly dragged by the remains of the tentacles towards the disc. Some tentacles were on the floor steaming and giving off a godawful smell as they appeared to dissolve. Helen raised the pistol and shot the flailing figure at the typewriter in the head; the figure lurched once and fell oozing blood and brains across a pattern of silvery paint and wires that had surrounded its seat. There was a crackle and a flash and the disc of night snapped shut cutting off the tentacles wrapped around Colhoun, which vanished in a pall of smoke. The subsequent silent explosion of force slammed both of them into the end wall of the hut. They fell semiconscious to the floor and sound returned as a ringing in the ears and a distant siren wailed.

“I say, if you two have quite finished can we come in and get on with some work?” barked the beetroot coloured face of Smythe.

 

Later back in Colhoun’s office, Perks served up some tea. “That will be all Perks you can go off duty now and inform the desk sergeant that Captain Hunter and myself are still on the premises”.

He reached into his desk and retrieved a small bottle of whisky and poured a healthy dash into both steaming mugs. “Here you go Hunter, this always helps me afterwards”.

“Thank you sir,” Helen gulped a dose of tea.

“I have got Smythe writing up his version of the events that led up-to the incursion at Station X. It seems his lead student, Calder I think his name was, wanted to speed up the decoding on your Case Nirbelwind transcripts by implementing some new maths algorithms he had been working on at Oxford. Smythe seems to think Calder was on the right track of something so he’s quite happy to leave the clean up to us. It is a shame about Calder though. It will have to be written up as a road traffic accident, hit by a truck in the blackout on his way back to his lodgings. I have told the base security to treat it that way, so that should smooth things over.

Helen sipped her tea and continued to shiver inside her uniform. Her mind was whirling around the day’s events. “You said an incursion sir? Where from? Was it the Nazi’s?” she asked to keep him talking while she worked out all of the implications.

Colhoun continued “I think Calder was already dead before we arrived so I know you can’t hold yourself responsible for his death. This is not the first time that such an incident has happened, it seems that our language skills” he said with a pointed glance at Helen, “are not the only ways to invoke such powers. It seems some arcane mathematics may be a more certain and direct method to use in projecting such power. Certainly something that needs more research.” He stared glumly at the dying embers of the office fire.

“Anyway, since I still have the car I will run you back to your digs, as the blackout will be starting soon. Tomorrow we can get this mess squared away. So Captain thank you for your help.”

As they walked down to the car Helen thought, “Yes I saved your life, but why was I brought along in the first place? What else is going on?”

 

Colhoun returned to Whitehall and a meeting that did not take place. The Chairman signalled him to take the seat. Colhoun tried not to flinch as he sat facing the table and its shadowy figures.

“Well Colhoun I have seen your initial report but now I want you to go through your impressions of Hunter’s skills and your thoughts on the events today at Station X.” instructed the Chairman.

Colhoun took a moment to gather his thoughts and then said, “Sir, Hunter showed surprising resilience and control during the incursion. She identified the risk and took action to neutralise the source of the incursion rather than go for the obvious task of trying to save me from an eldritch nightmare from the ends of time. A stroke of luck for me actually, as Calder seemed to have raised quite a nasty beasty. I am confident that with some training she will make quite a formidable asset”

“I must protest, surely the events of today lend credence to my point of view that there is something fishy going on with her. You can’t tell me that an untrained operative can identify and neutralise a type 2 incursion and survive unscathed. The whole incident lasted less than 10 seconds. She must have had training from someone and since it was not us it must be the opposition. She must have links to the Nazi’s or Soviets. I must in all conscience raise the issue of having her interrogated and disposed of in order to resolve this issue. For God’s sake she is only a woman.” interjected Smythe, his face becoming quite florid.

“Quite”, murmured the Chairman, “Mr Gladstone would you like to inform the committee of your findings”

“Yes Chairman, further to the background notes supplied in the minutes, Captain Hunter has made some very interesting reorganisations and fast tracked some projects which show some promise indeed. Apropos Professor Smythe’s concerns we can find no overt evidence of any links to any hostile foreign powers going back to at least her time at Cambridge, but then our links to the secret service have become strained of late so they may be withholding information. Her family on the other hand are incredibly influential at the War Office and with Mr Churchill’s circle. I think it can be judged, on the balance of probability, until further information is elicited that progression to the next phase of induction would not be unwarranted at this stage.” intoned Gladstone.

There then ensued some polite arguing back and forth as each member of the committee justified at length their position or lack of one.

“I think Gentlemen that we will have to proceed carefully in this case. I think we will progress Captain Hunter through to the next stage but with certain caveats. She should be given further training but with more careful supervision than normal with respect to her talents and contacts. I propose that she be partnered with subject Teapot during the next training phase and Professor Smythe and Colhoun can review her progress or lack of for a future meeting. Now I think we need to move onto these reports from Station X and the new methods that the professor is utilising. Maybe you could give us a short summary of these mathematical techniques you are finding so useful Professor?” stated the Chairman, as there was a shuffling of seats and papers. As the professor began to drone on the Chairman cast a wary eye onto subject Teapot who even in the shadows seemed to be smirking at them all.


	6. Chapter 6 London to the village to Banda Ram, 1941 and before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen gets training , twice, Norfolk and India.

Chapter 6

London to the Village via Banda Ram.

“Well it is certainly no use you moping about here, it’s time we went out for a bit of fun” declared Tobias. “I have to meet up with these Americans and I will need some reinforcements from you and Daphne to help me entertain them. They have brought the promise of fat contracts and they are very influential with Roosevelt.”

The breakfast table went quiet and both Helen and Daphne glared at him.

“What? What is wrong with that?” he said defensively

“Toby, there are girls who would be willing to provide the services you need for a fee, I am sure you would find that more suitable!” Helen said coldly.

“Oh! No not that silly! I have to meet their trade delegation at the American embassy, and they bored me silly while I was meeting them in Liverpool. But the contracts are very important and I thought with you two there I would be on better behaviour. Do think about it, a swanky do at the embassy, all the buffet you can eat, then maybe onto the Blue Cat Jazz club for a drink and a dance. Come on Helen, Daphne when was the last time you were out of uniform and let your hair down? I am sure the war could do without you for an evening. Since you are both on a weekends leave it would be shame to pass up on the chance to dance. What do you think now?”

“I don’t really have anything to wear apart from my uniform,” murmured Daphne.

“Well that’s OK Helen can lend you something, she’s got lots of frocks and shoes and stuff, what do you say Helen?” replied Toby.

“Daphne is taller than me and my shoes won’t fit her so it’s going to mean a shopping trip and with no ration coupons it is going to cost you a pretty packet. So we will also need Jenks and the Rolls which is surprisingly still in the mews” bargained Helen.

“I need Jenks and the car today, so you can use the maid and hire a taxi for the day, but I need you both ready to go by 7pm, the embassy bash starts early due to the air raid threat,” countered Toby.

“Done” declared Helen, “Come on Daphne we have shopping to do!”

7pm arrived with a dull bong of the hall clock as Toby paced at the bottom of the stairs. Then Helen and Daphne slinked down the stairs in a symphony of sparkles and silk. Toby stood stunned, wide eyed and slack jawed as the overpowering femininity stalked towards him “Good lord Daphne, you look beautiful! Helen you seem to scrub up well too. This is the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform and in a dress since the wedding. Ah, here is Jenks in the Rolls, we are just in time.” He said quickly turning away to cover his embarrassment.

With a giggle both services took him by an arm and led him into the evening.

 

 

            The Blue Cat Jazz club was loud and frenetic. The threat of another air raid seemed to spur every one onto new excitements and loudness. Helen watched the dance floor from her table at the rear of the room. No late supper was provided at the club, “there is a war on don’cha know!” but she and Daphne had stocked up at the embassy, much to Toby’s horror and their hosts amusement. Helen observed that the Americans were now being led astray on the dance floor by some Ladies who should know better, and that Toby and Daphne were getting on famously, well good luck to both of them she thought. As she relaxed into her seat and perused the room Helen felt a nagging tug to the rear right of the room near the door. No one she recognised just some dull looking new arrivals who seemed to have wandered into the wrong club. Then a distant wailing got louder and a groan went up from the patrons, “bloody Luftwaffe, another raid”.

“Ladies and Gentlemen it seems yet again Adolph is out to spoil our fun, so if you could make your way to the exit and safely to an air raid shelter we at the Blue Cat would like to wish you good night and see you again soon.” said the compare over the microphone as the musicians quickly packed up and headed for the rear exit. Toby swept Helen and Daphne up the stairs from the club to the street.

“Where is Jenks I told him to be ready to pick us up?” muttered Toby as he looked up and down the street. The dark street was lit by the flickering light of distant anti-aircraft fire and the flames from the East End. “Sorry Daphne, Helen, I think it is probably best we head for a shelter, rather than wait here.”

“There should be one, two streets down, near Green Park” said Daphne, “it’s on the main road back to your house so Jenks may see us on the way and pick us up”. She led them off down the lane into the night.

Before they got to the street corner the crowd had thinned out enough that Helen was now sure that they had two followers one either side of the street. As they headed for Green Park the crowd dissipated until there were only the three of them and their unknown shadows. While trying to keep an eye on the shadows behind her Helen skittered on her heels and slipped to the pavement.

“No time to rest now Helen” joked Toby as he helped her up, “Let’s get home” as he straightened up he then noticed that both Helen and Daphne had boxed him between them and were facing fore and aft. ”I say girls what’s going on?”

“Shush Dear, we’ll deal with this.” said Daphne.

“Yer twinkle you stay out of it and we will deal with the ladies. We will start with your purses, twinkle! Then we will do as we please. Wont we lads.” said a gruff voice from the shadows. There was an answering snigger from behind them, and the hiss of metal and a flash of light on long blades.

“Err I say“, stammered Toby as Daphne and Helen slowly backed him behind them to the shop doorway. This left them some room to face the three advancing thugs.

“Which one is she?”

“Does not matter, kill them all.”

Daphne stretched up onto her toes and Helen gripped her pendent and started to chant.

The silence stretched out only to snap with a flash of headlamps and a squeal of acceleration as a Rolls Royce mounted the pavement and swept into the three shadowy figures with a tremendous smash. The Rolls squealed to a halt and Jenks leapt out and opened the door, “Sir, Ladies if you would enter swiftly we should be home before the raid reaches us.”

“Thank you Jenks, about time you turned up,” said Toby as he recovered his composure and grabbing Daphne and Helen pushed them towards the Rolls.

Helen slipped his grasp and walked on to the now prone figures in the road.

The first was already dead so she ignored him, got to the second, seeing he was still barely alive she pressed her pendent to his fore head, there was a dull flare of amber light and a muffled sob as the body flinched. The next body was attempting to drag itself away on what looked like two broken legs. Helen reached him and kicked him over onto his back. With a muffled curse the figure tried to reach an inside pocket, Helen grabbed his hair and bounced his head off the road a couple of times. When he quietened she reached inside the pocket and pulled out a crystal and a chicken foot wrapped together in a silver chain. It vibrated slightly to her touch. She reacted quickly and placed her pendent onto the groaning figure’s forehead and started chanting. There was another amber flash and the figure arched his back and voided his bowels. With a grimace of distaste Helen quickly searched his pockets; stepping over him to the other two prone figures she got the same result, nothing.

“Helen we are waiting,” Toby shouted from the car, “Now hurry up”.

The Rolls pulled smoothly away and onto Albemarle Street and headed for home through some side streets,

Jenks coughed loudly “I do apologise Sir but I was waylaid while waiting near the club by some ruffians who wished to relieve me of the car, Sir. It took a few moments to disabuse them of the notion. If I may venture an opinion, they were not the usual lags as one did cry for his mother, in Russian. A Leningrad accent if I am not mistaken, Sir.”

“We will bow to your greater experience Jenks, now home quick as you can!” said Toby.

“What will become of the bodies? Will the Police become involved? Were we seen?” asked Daphne.

“If I may be so bold Ma’am, but the Police tend to sweep these events away as bomb damage. Dead is dead as they say.” replied Jenks.

“I think Jenks it may be wise if you were to contact Mr Trusler at my office and see about improving security at the house and for myself and our guests. He will provide you with all that you require. Now home quickly I feel the need for stiff drink and a warm fire.” said Toby.

Helen stared out of the window at the flickering shadows and tightly clutching her pendent and muttering under her breath in Hindi, the amber light in her eyes reflected off the window and slowly died away. Her thoughts were now furiously meshing the details into some coherent tree of possibilities. None of which gave her any hope for an easy future.

 

A month later in another boardroom meeting at Dansey House, Helen and Commander Colhoun stood in front of a senior standing committee.

            “Now the new duty roster for Q section at the Soho base has settled down, as all personnel have now been through the self-defence course you suggested, we will need you to provide a list of candidates for the enhanced skills program. Do you have a list of suggestions, Hunter? You usually do!” a quiet titter went around the boardroom table, as the Chairman looked at both Colhoun and Helen. Helen stepped forward and placed a slim folder onto the table. “Sir” she replied.

“I know that the self-defence course is practical, but do the girls have to wear the weapons so openly? It’s just not on!” fumed Smythe from the end of the table, as he eyed the Browning automatic pistol at Helen’s hip holster.

“We are SOE, Professor, it’s what we do.” replied Colhoun

A smirk passed Helens lips as she remembered the struggles to get the Q section to limit themselves to side arms and not the pump action shotguns and the new sten guns that the typing pool were agitating for.

Mr Brown if you would summarise your actions asked the Chairman

“It is better to be prepared, as operations start to increase we should expect there to be reprisals or attacks on personnel and installations. In the light of recent events I have reviewed the deaths suspicious or otherwise of all staff, for the past year. Certain anomalies lead me to propose that all installations and premises should have enhanced metaphysical defences incorporated and staff trained to maintain such defences on permanent duty. This explains the need for more candidates to be enrolled in the training program.” droned on Brown.

As Helen waited at attention she noted the complete lack of the words wizards, witches, and magic spells in the civil servants speech. She had already selected over a dozen from Q section in Soho that had some skills and potentials for specialised training, most were people she could rely on, a few she wanted rid of.

“I see that you have neglected to add your name to the training list Captain Hunter. That won’t do, not at all, we will need as many officers as possible to be trained up to minimal skill standard as soon as possible. Take your selected group to our installation at the coast. Start tomorrow. Colhoun since you seem to have the Laundry well organised you can do without Hunter for a few weeks. Maybe you can make some head way with the Teapot. Dismissed.” The Chairman said to them, before turning to the rest of the table “Now gentlemen we need to address the worrying developments coming out of the Balkans, it seems we have lost contact with Basil…”

 

Back in Colhoun’s office a fuming Helen had to sit and listen to him drone on about his success in updating the Laundry, while she juggled the problems for new duty rota’s that removing almost 20 staff from service at a day’s notice had created for her. Damn it will have to be another late night.

“What can you tell me about the training centre Sir?” she asked Colhoun to derail his monologue.

“Oh it is an old fishing village in Norfolk, bit out of the way but ideal for training requirements. The War department seized it in 39 and cleared out the villagers and built up some barracks and such stuff, we got it from them when its special links became apparent. Of course you will need to organise train warrants and get the Village to get some trucks to Norwich station to collect you all. You will enjoy it, just like school really.” He said with a whimsical smile as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk.

 

The train slowly pulled out of Kings Cross and into a siding, from the window Helen could see what was left of the Luftwaffe bomber across the lines at St Pancras. Two lines of prisoners were being marched across to clear the wreckage, at least she had managed to get her group onto an alternate train from Kings Cross to Cambridge then to Norfolk, which should only add another 5 hours to the journey. After a hectic morning reorganising she was now left in the clutches of a wartime railway system over which she had no control or influence. That left her with the traditional military choice of eating or sleeping. The train shuffled on through the smoky ruins and tenements of north London, the weak spring morning light made hazy and diffuse by smoke and cloud. Just like another day so long ago and half a world away.

            It had been a long day’s journey and an even more tiring night when at long last the Jewel of India finally deposited them in a cloud of steam and smoke at Banda Ram station, a hill fort past Dibrugarh at the headwaters of the Brahmaputra river. Helen was sleeping with her head on the lap of her Granny. The lurch of the train finally woke her and they both alighted. A short haggle obtained the services of a porter and they both headed off into the mists and the outskirts of town and into the hills. Granny’s pace was determined and Helen at a precocious 11 years old kept up. She had realised by listening to the pauses in Granny’s explanations of why and where they were going that this was more than just the usual expedition. Anyway much more intriguing than the adventures that usually kept her mother and her grandmother out of each other’s way. There was definitely something important going on, but what? The lush green hills rose slowly out of the mist into piercing blue skies, as they continued to follow the paths upwards and eastwards. It was pleasingly cooler here after the sweltering heat of the plains and the smell of wood-smoke and greenery a pleasant distraction after the stink of the city. After a second hour the porter seemed to have second thoughts on his commission but after a quick one sided “discussion” from Granny he bit his moustache and soldiered on. Helen was now hungry but since neither of them had brought any food she kept quiet and thought. Another hour of trudging brought them to a small valley hidden below a cliff face and a small village, which seemed to be having a combination of festival and funeral. The porter was now scowling openly at Granny and insisting on payment and a quick withdrawal from the village. She cursed him and flung his payment at him as he dropped her case and scarpered down the path. “Well, we will have to do without him for now dear” said Granny to Helen as she picked up the case and headed into the village, “Stay behind me and do as I do and don’t speak until asked to. Is that clear?”

As they approached the village Helen noticed that the road led through a tall stone gateway out of proportion for a poor hill village. There were regularly spaced statues of deities along the pathway and quite a few of the houses were stone walled rather than the usual mud and dung. Curious. The air still stank of smoke and shit though just like any other poor village.

In the village centre near the well sat a trio of women in coloured robes and garlands. Granny strode up to them and surprising Helen, knelt and bowed to the women. “Greeting honoured mothers, I come in search of your wisdom”. Helen quickly followed her to her knees and bowed

“Rise, sister” said the young women in the centre of the three. “We are blessed by your presence, especially on this day of days. I see you have brought an acolyte, but is she not of the unbelievers?”

“She is blood of my blood and trained in our ways, sister. I have brought her here on this day of days to enter the rite like any other. She may look strange but she has been trained well.” replied Granny.

The elder of the three women glared at Helen, who was feeling a bit miffed at being described as looking strange, and squawked a question at her in dialect. Helen remained silent and bowed, the women watched quietly and the crowd murmured disapproval, the seconds ticked by until Granny said “You may answer, Helen”, then still bowed Helen gave the first of the three ritual answers. The crowd murmured and relaxed. The trio of women leaned forward to inspect Helen more closely. The second question came from the young woman in the centre, this time in Hindi, Helen supressed a smirk and replied perfectly. The women now focussed intently on Helen as the third figure, a girl barely older looking than Helen leaned forward and with a keening ululation released a torrent of formless sounds and screams. The watching crowd were stunned to silence and backed a pace or two away. Granny had blanched and bit her lips, Helen quailed before the wall of sound, as she remained bowed. As the sounds echoed around the village centre and died away to silence, a form of question as quiet as a feather landed in Helens stunned mind. The answer, as obvious as a dream, pushed Helen upright and in two steps she was standing before the trio of women, and grasping the youngest women’s shoulders leant down and kissed her on the forehead. She took a step back and returned to her prostrate position. The three seated figures looked at Helen and Granny, and smiled. The women in the centre spoke “You have trained her well and her mind and heart are strong, she may enter the rite on this day of days. Please enter our village, rest and prepare, for there are only a few hours left before the rite must begin.” Helen and Granny were then led off to an open bungalow and shrine where several other couples were seated.

“You can have some water or tea but do not eat today, Helen, it’s important, it is another test. I will try to explain what is to happen. You know of course that we share some skills that not everyone has. Well I was trained by my great aunt and when I was your age was brought here to seek the joining with an avatar or djinn that would allow me to put those skills or powers to greater use. I succeeded or survived the rite and could “do magic” as you keep insisting on describing it as. I prefer to think of it as using the energy of the heavens to promote certain possible futures over others. Well saying that keeps me sane anyway. Now I have brought you here to give that choice to you. You have more talent than I had at your age but less training, so I am not certain of success in this matter and I cannot help you in the rite. The questions they asked were not what I would have expected. There appear to have been some changes since I was last here. But no matter, what is important now is that you have a choice, we can leave now and not come back, you would live your life as your family would like it, or we can stay and risk the rite. You could gain the powers I have or you may lose what you already have, maybe more. There is real risk Helen, but also gains to be made. You have an hour to decide. It must be your choice freely made.”

“I only have one question, was it worth it for you Granny?” said Helen.

“I could have refused, I was so unsure of myself. I could have returned home and my Father would have known none of it. To live a life in luxury until he decided to marry me off to another rich man and kept in the same luxury having many children and a content life until I died. But I chose the rite and lost all of that, but what I gained, the acts I have done, the sights I have seen, I would never trade them for a dozen lives of content boredom. So yes it was worth it for me.”

“Then I will think on about it” replied Helen.

 

The time for the rite to start came at dusk. Helen was led with ten other girls to the edge of the village up a path that led to the cliff edge that rose above the village. They were all dressed in simple orange robes and garlands, all jewellery had been removed except a simple stone and silver pendent that hung around each girl’s neck, and their hair was held loose and long. Along the path were more statues, many of forms that mixed human and animal attributes. Those nearest the cliff were the most alien and frightening in the half light of dusk and the flickering torchlight.

The trio of women that quizzed Helen led the procession through a barred gateway and into a cave at the base of the cliffs and followed a path in and upwards. After several minutes walking the chanting and singing faltered and stopped as they entered a cavern lit by a single brazier. There were dozens of niches large enough for each girl carved into the walls of the cave. Each girl was sat and then garlanded with flowers as their sponsor muttered prayers and farewells to them. Helen looked around at each of the other girls, most were older than her but smaller in stature; they all looked as worried as Helen felt. Soon only the priestesses and the girls were left in the cave. The three women began a soft chant and over time the girls joined in the simple prayer. Its repetition soon calmed Helen’s fears and she felt her mood change to acceptance. After an unknowable amount of time she felt her consciousness split, she could now watch herself in the cave while also seeing out of her own eyes at the girls and priestesses. Slowly amber speckles began to flash in the darkness of the cave walls.

 

Dawn the next day and the barred gate was opened to allow the waiting mothers, aunts and grandmothers back into the cavern. They followed the path and the quiet sound of rhythmic chanting up into the cavern. The priestesses were sat around the single brazier.

One of the girls was dead, her slumped body now a withered husk held in place by her dress and the garlands of flowers. Attendants removed her first as her aunt followed them to the village quietly weeping. Two of the girls were sat drooling and rocking backwards and forwards repeating the simple prayer phrase as they stared into the distance. They did not recognise their sponsors and were gently carried back to the village.

Three girls appeared unharmed and unchanged by the rite and holding tightly onto their family member stumbled from the cavern. That left five girls still to leave. Helen’s granny pushed through to where she was and let out a gasp and a prayer of thanks as she saw Helen still sat repeating the chant and with her pendent now glowing faint amber in the cave light. Helen and three others were quickly lifted from their niches and carried still chanting from the cave down the path to the sanctuary of the village. That left one slight girl, furthest from the entrance, she not only had a glowing pendent but she herself was limned in amber light, and her eyes glowed with a rich tawny hue. The chanting increased in volume as more priestesses filed into the cavern and sat surrounding the glowing girl and began the battle for possession of the body and expulsion of the invader.

The day for Helen passed in a blur of forced feeding and ritual washing. She was covered in henna symbols and dressed in a new robe. Her hair was cut short which vaguely annoyed her but it was difficult to concentrate on what was going on around her. Granny was there so that was alright then, nothing could go wrong. It got dark, then it got light again, she was not sure, everything seemed to be moving extremely slowly until she blinked and then hours seemed to vanish out of sight.

It was the best part of a fortnight of recovery and intensive training before Helen and Granny left the village and returned to a familiar but bewildering civilisation as a pair of round pegs in square holes.


	7. summer 1941 London to Skye to the ends of the world

Summer 1941

From London to Arran and then to the ends of the world.

 

The conditions in “the village” had not been just like school in any way that Helen remembered hers. She shuddered to think that Coulhoun was quite nostalgic about it. What idiocy these men inflict on themselves in the name of tradition. The only saving graces for Helen had been the training. Such blinkered ignorance of the powers involved balanced by such surprising insights into the skills and tradition she had learned in India. Helen was constantly amazed by the crass stupidity and breath taking brilliance of the classes and skills she had been processed through. All her cohort from the Laundry had been sorted, sifted, assessed and graded in skills as diverse as field repairs to a wireless transmitter to “spells” strong enough to kill a panzer and its crew. Helen made sure she was always in the top 5 of each class, mainly for the benefit of whoever was watching her, better to be underestimated than to be feared, for the time being.

As spring eased into a Norfolk summer the world changed again. Their classes were accelerated or curtailed, as Nazi army groups smashed across Poland and deep into Soviet Russia. Then new orders brought the end of school and a return to London.

Helen and Daphne had wasted no time in getting back to business as usual and were going through the reports that were still waiting on Colhoun’s desk. These being the ones Colhoun thought critical enough to warrant his attention before Daphne could filter them out of his sight and process herself.

“Ah, Hunter, Winters, good you are both here, that will save time. Winters hold any messages and I will be back this afternoon. Hunter get organised and ready out front in 5mins we have a meeting at Dansey House” said Colhoun as he came in and rummaged in the pile for one folder and then left, leaving the bemused pair staring at him.

“Well Daphne if you carry on as agreed, then the reorganisation seems to be progressing well, have a shufti through what’s left here and mark anything irregular out for me to check up on before you send them on. I’ll go and see what’s going on”, said Helen.

10 minutes later Helen was on the pavement, next to the car she had told Perks to organise, waiting for Colhoun . He came drifting out the door still carrying the folder emblazoned with classified top secret clearly visible. With a cool glance Helen flipped open the briefcase she was holding and nodded at Colhoun who tossed the file in with a scowl.

“Bloody irritating to have to remember about those wards and protections you organised for the files Hunter. But it does seem to have tightened up on security.”

“Yes Sir, the fewer secrets left lying on tube trains the better. Right Perks, Dansey House, as quick as you can.”

Colhoun blanched at that thought as Perks put the car through the kind of aggressive manoeuvring that the old Austin was not built for. Luckily the petrol rationing had drastically thinned out the traffic and gave Perks plenty of room to show off.

“Well that was quick, thank you Perks” Colhoun croaked as he left the car.

“I’m thinking it might be a good idea for you to suggest getting more of the girls trained up on transport, I’m sure Perks and the rest would jump at the chance to train up on something more powerful, like armoured cars or even tanks. After all we are SOE”, smoothed Helen with a wink at a now beaming Perks.

“Sort it out when we get back, Helen. Now this meeting is a bit special so I want your particular attention to what might be any ulterior motives among the senior staff. This is about the case that brought you to our attention in the first place and you know the trouble that caused”, whispered Coulhoun as he stood at the base of the steps leading up to Dansey House. “Just be extra careful”.

 

The boardroom was again staffed by the mixture of uniforms and senior civil servant garb with a sprinkling of academia tweed. All the usual suspects here noted Helen as she stood to attention to the side and slightly behind Colhoun in front of the desk.

“Well gentlemen we will begin” intoned the Chairman. “It seems that recent events in Eastern Europe have not only changed the direction of the war in our favour but now shed light on the mystery in Case Nirbelwind. If you can summarise for us the pertinent details please Commander Lister”

“I am afraid the details are few and far between but their implications are wide ranging. It now seems certain that the origins of Case Nirbelwind lie with a Soviet program into utilising minor demons in some sort of monitoring or spying role. The details are frustratingly vague. We are having to rely on sources in the Polish underground and in Berlin. The Nazi’s are parading the reports of the mass execution of the Polish Army officer cadres at the forests in Katyn, which is too much of a coincidence to ignore since we had located Nirbelwind to that area before the recent invasion by the Nazis. The Soviets must have been trying to circumvent the technology gap in radar or radio communications by going into occult power and some sort of all seeing eyes. It would all seem a bit farfetched except for reports of the Ahnenerbe SS having sealed off the area and moved something on trains back to Berlin. I doubt that now they are our allies, of a sort, that we will get any information from Moscow. The only clear facts are the mass graves in the forest, in an area of special interest to us, and whatever it is, the Nazis now have it.”

“That brings us to you Professor”

Smythe took a second or two to puff on his pipe then “Well following a hunch, I had my team reworking the Nirbelwind data. So when it reappeared I was able to institute a tracking procedure that narrowed down its new location to be north of Tromso in Norway, somewhere near Talvika or Alta. It has only appeared for a two or three day cycle on three occasions usually about two weeks apart. I predict that it will return in 10 to 15 days.”

“I will now open a new file called Case ArchAngel, to include all reports and files pertaining to Case Nirbelwind, to be on a short distribution list to include only those in this room and a redacted version for the Cabinet office,” intoned the Chairman. “The timing and frequency of the Nirbelwind transmissions coincides with the passage of the PQ convoys past the North Cape in transit to and from the ports of Murmansk and Arkangel. The increasing losses to those convoys, is becoming an embarrassment to the governments promises of aid to the Soviets. We have been ordered to make all possible efforts to prevent the Nazi’s from using any metaphysical methods of interrupting the supply of material to our, ehm allies the Soviets. So Professor Smythe you will get your group to refine their data to pinpoint a location for ArchAngel. Calhoun and Hunter you will proceed to the Isle of Skye to join with No.3 Royal Marine Commando and liaise with them in preparation for a search and destroy mission to neutralise the threat to the convoys. We have a time limit for resolution of 8 weeks before the larger convoys from Canada and America reach the North Cape. They must get through with their supplies or with the way it is going in the Ukraine and Belarus the Russians might not last till Christmas. Colhoun and Hunter you will leave tonight, dismissed.” said the Chairman.

 

“Now Helen, you can stop worrying about the rosters, I can do that till you get back. I have organised the travel warrants for you and Commander Colhoun, to Glasgow. Once there transport is laid on with the Marines to get you to Arran. I have Perks standing by to get you home to get your kit and then on to Euston station. The girls here have had a quick whip round and got you a care package with all the necessaries, just in case. You should be back in a week at the latest, and then while the Commander is away we can get on with reorganising.” said Daphne as she dragged Helen away from the office.

“Alright, alright I’m going, Perks go and warm up the car. Daphne you take care of the office and keep an eye on Toby for me.” A quick hug and a salute and then Helen was out the door and gone.

This time the trains were running to schedule as the night raids had dropped off as the Luftwaffe was now pounding western Russia, and they reached Glasgow the following morning.

Steam and smoke obscured the station as Helen lurched down onto the platform unbalanced by the weight of her kitbag. Colhoun had kept making himself scarce during the journey and was now not to be seen. She saw a porter glare at her then turn away and walk off. Well at least he left the trolley, Helen thought as she dragged the kit bag and her briefcase onto it.

“I say you there, young lady ..” a loud hesitant voiced brayed from behind her on the platform.

Helen swivelled sharply around her hand casually resting on her holster with the Browning automatic in it. Her eyes quickly took in the group of officers emerging from the smoke and she stepped forward.

“I would have thought that a first lieutenant with 3 Commando would have been able to recognise a superior officer and have learned how to salute by now. Are you sure you are ready for active service yet?” she smiled at him.

The effect of her smile and stern words had flummoxed the group of young officers until their bodies gave up waiting for their brains to do something and as one they leapt to attention. Helen made them wait a full 10 seconds at attention before returning their salute.

“Ah Hunter if you have finished playing, then lieutenant if you scurry off and find your commanding officer I have some orders for him, the rest of you get your troops organised down to this end of the platform the trucks are waiting,” said Colhoun from behind her.

Through the windscreen of one the trucks Helen watched as Scotland rolled past. It was dismal and grey, or dismal, grey and raining all the way from Glasgow to Airrish on Arran.

 

The staff car Colhoun had shared with the commando officers had stopped outside an imposing baronial castle, her truck pulled up alongside and dropped her off before continuing on with the rest of the convoy.

The other senior officers were heading towards the door way as Helen joined onto the end. The door opened as they approached and a slim, young woman stepped out to greet them. “Mother is in the study, she will want to take your respects there,” she said and led them through the castle interior. The group entered a large drawing room with a blazing fire and a fierce matronly figure behind a desk.

To Helen, the Duchess looked exactly as she expected one of her class to be, centuries of breeding and years of training to make to make the world bend before their iron will. It was a good job Helen’s special skills were looked down upon as no better than trade, otherwise the social history of Empire would have been very different. The preliminary introductions to find out who was related to whom, jarringly reminded Helen of a study she had read about the highland islanders of Papua New Guinea and their convoluted introduction rituals. Except here only a social death would be the consequence of a lacking pedigree. Helen barely passed; some families had very long memories.

Eventually the duchess got to her point, “Well gentlemen, I am informed that several of my sheep have met a sticky end at the hands of your men. I do hope that in future you will be able to stop them so that it does not happen again. If you can’t control your men here, how do you expect to control them in Africa?” she asked.

Apologies were muttered by all and soon they were shown the door.

As they trooped out Helen spoke to the girl, who said her name was Jean. I asked whether she had thought of joining up “Well, Mother is not too keen on me going, there is so much to do here. She says maybe after the harvest there will be time. I was thinking of joining the Wrens, Daddy was in the Navy in the last war, so they should take me. They have such a nicer uniform, don’t you think?” she replied ignoring Helen’s dull khaki. “Anyway there are some benefits to being here” she said as they reached the door, and a squad of soldiers jogged past along the driveway. “Enjoy your stay here and do call again.” She said closing the door.

It was yet another dank and dismal morning as Helen poked her head out of the tent. She and Colhoun had been attached vaguely to Operation Claymore, in that they had commandeered a ship and soldiers from them and would sail with them to Norway but they would attack their separate target. There had still been a lot of planning and Colhoun had insisted Helen accompany him on the arduous physical training and self-defence courses. Bits of it had been fun but she could have done without the cross country runs, even if she surprised some by not finishing last. His own staff selection had led to some problems as he chose the lieutenant that had come off worse with Helen at Glasgow railway station. Weapons training had been a case in point.

“Well, Commander that should get you certified across all close protection weapons, will that be all?” said the sergeant as he retrieved the Sten gun from Colhoun.

“Ah Helen I think you should have a go, what do you think?” queried Colhoun to her.

“Well if it comes down to relying on my shooting skills then things will have gone seriously wrong, sir. Maybe let the rest of the men have a go?” I replied.

There were some sniggers from the group of officers and n.c.o’s behind me and then Kirkland spoke.

“Surely if the Captain is going to carry a gun, then the men would be reassured to know that she can use it.”

Kirkland had been politely trying to undermine Helen in front of Colhoun and the rest of his squad for the last two days, another jealous public school boy who could not get past Helen getting the better of him at Glasgow and the cross country runs.

I need to quash this once and for all, time for a bit of razzle-dazzle, I thought.

I approached the worktable set up beside the range, casting my mind over what I could remember about Perks and her enthusiasm for weaponry. The Sergeant behind the table had a twinkle in his eye as I approached. “Well what can I do yer for, Captain? What you see is what I got” he gruffed as he swept his arm over the bench of assorted death dealing metal.

I pitched my voice for the audience behind me as I walked along the display of weapons. “Well the Webley is no good, no accuracy over 10 feet, as you may be thankful for Commander. The Sten, well I hear it has reliability issues, fires when you don’t want it to, and jams when you do. Now this I think I will try,” I said as I picked up my choice. A bit of extra flim flam with the sergeant as we loudly discussed the merits of different weights and loads of ammunition, then I turned and faced my audience with a flourish of a most lethal looking shotgun. Bless those ingenious Americans; Lend-Lease came to my aid. As I ratcheted a shell into the barrel there was quick intake of breath and a short step back by Kirkland and his group. I strode across to the firing range, this would need a bit of showmanship so I stood, levelled the gun and fired at the nearer target, which disintegrated under the heavy load shells the sergeant had slipped to me. I quickly strode across the range and demolished the next six targets; hopefully nobody noticed the wince from the recoil kickback. I will definitely have to slip that sergeant some decent cigarettes. That left one more target at the closer range, so I pulled out the Browning from my hip holster and emptied the magazine into the centre of the target in rapid fire. Well, Daddy had taught me to shoot every type of gun he owned when I was eleven, didn’t everybody do that?

The noise died down and the smoke cleared, I turned to face the commandos, “Well Lieutenant Kirkland if you let any Germans get that close we will be having words about what you have done wrong. Commander if we are done here maybe we can get to something more useful?” I said.

“Indeed, Captain indeed”, Colhoun replied with a knowing look.

News travelled fast around the camp and from then on there were less annoyances and a bit more respect.

 

The northern evening refused to get any dimmer as Colhoun and Helen finished their final checklist and headed down to the harbour. A ship filled with commandos was waiting for them there. To Helen, Colhoun had seemed distracted from the planning all day, but no matter, she would hopefully be back in London tomorrow and he would be gone for a week. The car stopped at the wharf and let them out; the harbour was busy as small ships loaded soldiers and stores onto larger vessels. Their destination was a converted fishing trawler which would hide among the convoy until setting off on the important part of the whole escapade.

“Well Helen, this looks like the part where I leave you and go off and be heroic in the face of the foe!” said Colhoun as he loaded himself with his kitbag and struck what he thought was a heroic pose.

“Sir” Helen replied noncommittally, the week spent in training with him had been a week too long. Anyway there were too many other interesting sights and men that were milling about for her to focus on Colhoun, as she vaguely followed him towards the docked trawler. Then a squeal of pain and a torrent of swear words drew her attention back to him. He was sprawled on the dock with his leg at an unnatural angle. His foot was trapped under a railway track and pointing at totally the wrong angle. Helen moved quickly to slide his foot out and roughly examined it, to his hiss of pain. She called her driver over and got him to load Colhoun back in to the car and take him to the harbourmaster’s office and a medic. She strode onto the trawler soon found Lieutenant Kirkland. After a quick briefing they both went to find Colhoun at the harbourmasters office.

He was laid out on a bench his ankle already strapped up. He was putting down the phone and glared at the new arrivals. “Captain Hunter I have just apprised London of the situation and they insist that the operation must still go ahead. It is too late to bring in another senior officer in the time remaining, so since you have all the details of the plan and have completed the training, you are the only sensible replacement. You will have to take charge of the Arkangel component of Operation Claymore.” Colhoun said between gritted teeth.

Both Kirkland and Helen started to object.

“Be quiet, Kirkland I am giving you written and verbal orders to follow Captain Hunter in my place. Helen you know as much about this operation as I do so only you can take over. You know the plan, so all you have to do is boss some people about until it happens. Just do what you normally do”, he finished with a slight smile. He quickly jotted some fresh orders onto the back of the operational plan and passed it across to Helen.

She stood dumbstruck, as the weight of what was happening slowly settled around her. Kirkland glared at her and stomped off to shout at some squaddies as she gathered her kit from the car and with a last look towards the office and Colhoun, she boarded the trawler.

“Welcome aboard Captain, I think you will need this” said the gruff voice of Sergeant Bowdie as he passed the shotgun towards her.


	8. Norway and the long way home

Norway and the long way home.

 

Helen looked out from the wheel house of the armed trawler at the coast of Norway with some foreboding. The gloomy light was as dark as it was going to get this far above the Arctic Circle.

The squad of commandos that she and Colhoun had liberated from 3 Commando and their Operation Claymore were busy loading the landing boats and making preparations for the run into the hopefully deserted and derelict fishing village. She handed the heavy binoculars back to the trawler captain nodded to the Lieutenant and said “Time to go”.

They ran up the small inlet towards the deserted village and landed on a small beach next to a wooden jetty. If they were to be ambushed it would be here and now, so with her heart in her mouth she rushed across the ground to the closest building and crouched down. The weight of the kit she was carrying and the sheer adrenaline rush was making her breathless and jittery. The rest of the commandos spread silently out in pairs through the deserted village. She remained crouched until her heart beat calmed and she used her vision to scout through the village and into the forest on the hills behind it. Only the bright speckles of the minds of small predators flitted across the hillsides. They were alone. She stood and marched up the lane between the huts and to the start of the track through the hills. The guard she had been given as a batman hurried to keep in front of her.

Soon the rest of the commandos caught up with her at the base of the hills. Before the angry Lieutenant could try and upbraid her in front of the squad for not waiting till he had cleared the village Helen spoke.

“Right Lieutenant, signal the boats to leave, get your men spread out into the woods and your only task is to get me and the equipment over this mountain to the target area, find the opposition then I’ll take care of the rest.” she ordered, with a lot more conviction and confidence than she felt.

With a “Sir” he nodded at the squad “You heard the Captain now move on out”, they melted into the shadowed woods as khaki ghosts.

Their written orders from Colhoun in Scarpa Flow were pretty detailed but now that she was here on the ground, they felt woefully lacking. She was to find the source of Case Nirbelwind/ArkAngel somewhere in the 20 square miles centred on the next valley over the mountains from where she was disembarked, then capture or destroy whatever it was, avoid capture and return within 72 hours for pick up at the inlet she had just left. What could possibly go wrong! She had 12 hours to get to the valley and then the 3rd Commando would be assaulting the Lofoten Island ports and fish oil plants, which would hopefully draw any enemy troops in the area to the south.

The going was good but with the perpetual light of the arctic summer it was hard to judge time and progress. Then they reached the tree line of the scrubby pines and birch bushes and the next perilous part of over the moorland ridges to the next valley. It looked to be a two to three hour trek over exposed landscape. A nerve jangling trek, if they were to be spotted by the Germans then it would all be over before they got started.

 

Lieutenant Kirkland divided the squad into three, led the first group across the moor, Helen gave them 10 mins while she tried to scan the area for any evil intent to her but the vast emptiness threatened to swallow her up. The only unease came from the residual animosity from a couple of the soldiers behind her.

“Right you lot up and at it, keep spread out and watchful, Sergeant Bowdie give us a good 10 mins then bring your lads up.” ordered Helen as she got her part of the squad moving. The back pack was now getting annoyingly heavy, even though she knew that Bowdie had removed all the non-essentials, leaving her with food, water, waterproofs, the special package, some ammo clips for her Browning and spare shells for the shotgun that she had strapped to the outside of the pack. Well at least she was thankful she was not carrying the Bren gun or the radio.

During the crossing she felt as if the landscape was inverting and she was at the bottom of a bowl of moorland with the achingly blue sky above stretching to infinity, the smell of the short scrub and herbs sharp across her senses, the chittering buzz of insects grew louder. She had not seen Kirkland’s group for at least twenty minutes and had yet to catch sight of Bowdie and the rear-guard. Her own squad seemed to fade into the gorse and heather of the moorland around her as the landscape became even more vivid. She realised that her pendent was starting to warm and quickly she clasped it and whispered a calming pray to it until her vision returned to her control, “Not now maybe later” she muttered to it. Slowly her vision returned from its alien intensity and back to normality

 

Once over the moor they dropped down off the ridges and back into forested hills. They could have been anywhere at any time so empty did the forest appear, until a familiar sound froze everyone into cover behind trees. The groan of straining trucks murmured up through the trees from below them. They must be close to a road. Kirkland signalled everyone to remain still and sent two men each way along the ridge to find the road.

Helen eased herself against a tree to ease the weight off her back pack. She slipped her hand inside her battledress and eased the pendent into a slight glow. She used its power to force her sight past the straining trees in their struggle for light and towards the hot bright minds down on the road in the valley below.

She could make out a confusion of assorted emotions, many fearful some bored. Prisoners and guards on trucks, best part of 50 people she could feel, so maybe three trucks? Her djinn was never very much interested in mechanicals but only in the minds that drove them or in the novelty of experiences. There did seem to be a hazy or slick feeling about someone but she could not get a hold on the image.

A scout returned just as the trucks bellowed past below them to tell Kirkland that there was a convoy of three lorries led by a car driving up the road 100 yards below them from the south.

“They will be taking the prisoners, about 3 dozen mainly women, North to the target site so if we follow the road we should get to see where they are going, and save some time.” Helen piped up before Kirkland ask her.

The commandoes were still not used to her strange behaviour and some were definitely giving her strange looks every-time she pre-empted them with her fore knowledge. One or two, she could see out of the corner of her eye, crossed themselves, as Kirkland ordered them to move along the ridge and parallel to the road.

The forest was providing good cover as they followed the road for the best part of five miles as it slowly weaved down the valley towards the sea. Then the dusk deepened and the alleged night fell, Kirkland had his men dig in and set up a watch perimeter. Helen had gratefully put down her pack and sat and studied the copy of the map she and Kirkland had. A corporal came and pushed some rations and a mug of warmish tea at her, then swept back into the gloom.

Helen looked up to notice that all the commandoes had faded away into the forest and only Kirkland was visible as he walked towards her.

“It will be dawn in a few hours and then 3 Commando will strike at the ports. We have to rest up here but that won’t give us very long to find and scout out the enemy installation. Do you have any more information about where we are going, Captain?” he asked Helen.

“Further along the road the map indicates that there is a flattened hill with a view of the sea, it is the only likely spot this side of the valley. I got the impression from the guards on the trucks that they were not going far. So we will search that area first then cross the valley and work back up the other side. If nothing crops up by then I will decide what to do.” Helen murmured as she raised a glimmer of light above the map to show Kirkland, who to his credit only twitched slightly at Helen’s lack of torch.

“Yes sir, we will patrol further down the valley at first light.” He stiffly said as he retreated into the gloom. Helen pulled the groundsheet out of the back pack and wrapping it around her stretched out beside the fallen tree and slept.

 

Dawn arrived with screams and counter threats of violence filling the air around her.

“Bloody birds! Who can sleep with all this racket going on.” muttered a shadowy figure nearby as Helen slowly used her pendent to scan the camp and surrounding hill for threatening minds. There was nothing large enough to worry her or the commandos, except for a nagging bitterness that tugged at her from further down the valley.

Quickly the commandos roused, packed and headed through the trees and towards the first target area. An hour after dawn and the sound of trucks again echoed up the hills towards her. Kirkland appeared at her elbow and said “That must be the German response to the attack further down the coast. 3rd Commando will have struck the port at dawn. They must be sending down reinforcements”.

Helen nodded and the squad faded another 50 yards from the direction of the road and headed up the next hill. The sense of bitterness pervaded this side of the hill like a fog. Helen kept feeling another presence around her but could not locate it, like an itch behind her eyes. Then a low call from ahead and she caught up with Kirkland as he and another soldier stood looking at a tree.

As they turned at her approach they revealed a macabre sight. The head and neck of a wolf or large dog had been tied to a tree overlooking the game path the commando had been following. Its head, supported by the wires tying it to the tree, hung limply.

“Bit weird even for the countryside, sir. It’s been dead a while, see the neck has dried out” said the commando to Kirkland as he pointed at the ragged flesh of the neck, “but no insects or maggots are on it.”

“Well Captain Hunter have you seen anything like this before? This seems to be your area of expertise after all.” asked Kirkland.

Helen looked past the commando and studied the mangled remains, before she could comment the commando jolted back and said “Fuck me! It’s still fuckin breathing!”

“Quiet man! Don’t be stupid its dead” scolded Kirkland

The remains were definitely the source of the bitterness Helen had detected in the air. Now she became even more worried, the head was very slowly sniffing the air every few minutes.

“I think Kirkland you had better tell your men to keep an eye out and avoid any more of these things. I don’t think it is a Norwegian scarecrow, so we should proceed with even more caution. We may have stumbled on the site we are after.” Helen muttered pensively.

Another two hours of sneaking through forest avoiding the increasing amounts of dead dog sentinels brought the commandos to the hill of interest. A single track road led up from the main road and onto a hill top cleared of trees and planted with barracks and wire fences. Watch towers loomed at the corners.

“Well lieutenant, this bit is down to you. The objective is to get me in there so I can grab any boffins and their equipment. You and your men have to clear the way, so until the site is secure you have command.” Helen spoke quietly to Kirkland from just inside the treeline opposite the site. He was quietly scanning the site through binoculars.

“The watch towers are manned but there seem to be no patrols on the perimeter, the raid further south must have depleted their manpower. I suggest we take out the south west tower and insert at the wire there furthest from the other towers and closest to those storage sheds for cover. If you stay with a squad at this end and cover the tower and gate here, then when I have cleared the site they can bring you in. You will only have an hour or so from when we start to get what you need if we are to clear the site before their guards get back from the south. Now if you will excuse me sir I will brief my men.”

Helen sat inside the tree line and worried, the commandos spread out to their tasks and the quiet continued. The all-pervading bitterness that Helen could taste in the air ever since coming upon the dog heads, seemed to deepen as the tension inside increased. The thought of what these men were about to do at her orders was making her sick to her stomach. She quietly followed the machine gunners as they carried the bren gun along the tree line to cover the road and gate house, her body guard hovered behind her. Kirkland had taken the rest of the men westwards along the trees and was now working his way towards the isolated tower. It would start any moment now. The dread in Helen started to mount as she felt the tension increase in the soldiers around her. Her pendent responded to her emotions and started to pulse warmly. The familiar heightening of her senses did not reassure her but only increased her worries. Helen tried to ignore her feelings and keep to Kirkland’s plan but her fear just increased. The pulse from her pendent had quickened dramatically and she had to steel herself just to stay still. She could not expose any fear to the men around her, she could not fail in this. The shooting, when it started, still came as a surprise, it was too soon, so she peaked out from behind the tree and looked towards the watch tower on the hill towards the west. She could make out weapons fire heading into Kirkland’s position from the camp in front and the trees behind. The other soldiers were much more alarmed as with muffled curses they grabbed their guns and started to move back towards Kirkland’s group. Then the grenades fell through the trees and all hell broke loose. The blast shoved Helen hard against the tree stunning her and coating her with warm red goo. Her consciousness became woozy but her guest grabbed her senses and diverted most of the screams and flashes towards itself. Helen tried to stay alert but slowly slumped down the tree and into blackness.

The pain from her arm pulsed brightly enough to bring her around. She was on the muddy ground with 6 or so other men huddled around her. “Easy, Captain” said one of the figures who sounded like Sergeant Bowdie, “We are inside the compound but the Lieutenant and the rest of the men are dead. The Nazi’s were waiting behind us. The guards had not gone south but came back through the woods after us. They knew where we were and ambushed us.” He explained with an affronted tone. Helen struggled up into a sitting position, her left arm had her battledress cut lose and a rough field dressing applied. It hurt even worse than it looked. The guards surrounding them looked pretty happy with themselves, and joked about beating the Tommies yet again, but they suddenly snapped into a quiet watchfulness. A bitter cloud of tension enveloped the group as three black clad officers sauntered towards them. Helen recognised the oily emanations of power coming from one of them, as from the convoy yesterday. She struggled up and with Bowdie’s help and got standing just as they arrived.

“Ah the kleine Hexe and her little band of spies. I see you are awake, good” said the SS Major before Helen could speak, “Braun take the wounded and help recharge the dogs, in case we missed a few stragglers. Weiss take the rest and we will use them tonight to search for the convoy they came from.” He turned then back towards Helen. “Fraulein Hexe, Kapitan is it? Please to come this way.”

Helen blurted out “I do hope you will treat my men well, according to the conventions”.

“But Fraulein, the Fuehrer has declared all commandos as spies and as such should be executed immediately. But don’t worry I will have them put to a better use. Now please this way. Braun, Weiss get on with it” he replied and walked away leaving the group to be split up by the guards and Helen was pushed after the SS warlock.

Helen could feel the pulses of barely controlled power lurching off the horror in front of her as she was pushed towards their destination, a long low hut near the main gate.

“Well my kleine Hexe, if you would care to wash off most of the blood I will have some tea made. No eye of newt or tongue of frog this time, ha-ha!” he joked pointing at a basin of water set inside the door.

I took a few moments while washing to push some protection over my pendent and to damp down any signs of power as best I could. Time to play from a position of apparent weakness I thought. I put down the gory towel and turned to find my host seated at a table while an aide set out tea and cakes. My memory lurched back to a dusty lecture hall in Leipzig and a small round faced man in round glasses giving a rather dull lecture about an obscure area of mathematical topological transformations, I had only stayed because it was raining outside and in spite of the professors poor delivery I could make out some interesting links to my own specialist area. I took a seat opposite my host and graciously took a cup of weak tea from his trembling hand, seriously the Germans had no idea how to do the simplest of things!

He peered quizzically at her then beamed ”Well if you are the best that SOE can offer in opposition, then my work will only be successful sooner. Please have a kucken.” He said pushing a plate of dry biscuits at me.

“Why thank you Professor Hahnsberg, have I remembered that correctly? I think I was one of a few at your lectures in Leipzig was it 36 or 38? You appear to have fallen from grace since then, and joined the army.” I replied in German, as I carefully bit into the biscuit.

Hahnsberg appeared surprised and pleased that Helen knew who he was,

“On the contrary Fraulein, my work came to the attention of Reichsfurhrer Himmler who recognised my talent and has allowed me to prove my theorems and place them at the service of the Reich. Your very presence here means that I must be right and that I have discovered the tools to bring my enemies to their knees. My work will be instrumental in providing the victory over the barbarians in the East. The British Empire will then fall into line as befits the new world order and its reduced place in it. More tea Fraulein?” he burbled.

“Why thank you Professor, though I hear that your advances are based on what you stole from the Soviets, otherwise you would still be twiddling your theorems in Leipzig, is that not so Professor?” I tweaked at him, the tea was really poor and now my arm was starting to ache more as the rest of my pains eased off. Maybe he could be goaded by his vanity into saying something interesting.

“I am certain that the Soviet swine had somehow stolen some of my ideas and in their ignorant way tried and failed. Hmm yes but their ideas on the power source were an eye opener indeed. I have, of course, improved on that as you will soon observe. Ha yes observe closely” he chuckled to himself.

“Well in that case, may I re-join my men, Herr Professor? The tea appears to be quite cold.” I replied stiffly.

“Of course not! Your men are being used elsewhere, and since you are a spy you have no rights at all, so you will be placed with the other women prisoners for later disposal. I do hope we get a chance to chat further, and of course Braun will need to torture you a bit to get some details for the Anhenerbe , you know how they can be! Ha yes until later my kleine Hexe.” he giggled softly as he held out for another trembling hand shake.

I was led from the room by the aide and handed over to a pair of guards who quite roughly hauled me through the wire barricades towards a low barracks near the back of the camp. I hardly noticed as I mulled over the maths professor who was now a powerful, but insane warlock in the SS and who now had unsavoury plans for me.

I was dumped outside a long low hut in the prisoner compound; some women appeared at the doorway as the guards left and were looking out at me. I stood straighter and dusted myself off and made sure my uniform was straightened and marched up to the door and entered as the watchers melted away before me.

The hut was filled with three layer bunk beds but most of the occupants were huddling in the shadows furthest from the door. As my eyes adjusted I could see they were a rag tag bunch of civilian women and children. Probably the prisoners from the trucks yesterday I thought. Most avoided my eyes and ignored my questions in English and German. Damn I’m tired, so I took a bed that was unoccupied on the edge of the group and nearer to the door.

My arm was still painful but at least it did not appear to be leaking anymore. As my eyelids began to droop the slow buzz of indistinct chat rose and I must have slept or passed out again.

I woke with a start my pendant pulsing slowly against my chest. I was wrapped in a blanket and struggled to free myself then saw a slim figure in a hotch-potch of coloured clothing perched on the end of the bunk. She was dark haired and had tanned and thin face, and held a tin cup of water out towards me.

“For you, Oma”, she said and pointed at my chest were my pendant slowed and cooled its throb.

I thanked her in English, then German, my small amount of Norwegian and tried again in my fractured Romany which seemed to get a response.

She smiled and spoke quickly to some shadows behind her, much too quickly for me to follow what was going on but she seemed pleased about it. The light had changed while I was asleep and now had the look of the perpetual twilight of the northern evening.

There was a noisy disturbance outside and all the women quickly sidled away from me and further away from the door. That didn’t help as the guards bullied everybody outside and into two loose lines. They were led off to a separate compound which was bustling with activity.

Helen looked around with increasing horror at the site. A concrete slab laid in the ground was visible through the wire in front of her and the other women prisoners. She could see that Bowdie and three others had been tied up and placed kneeling at each corner. In between each of the soldiers was what looked like a militarised version of the orgone generators she had first seen in Leipzig before the war. They were wired up to generators and lights spaced about the compound. To the side, there were trucks connected to what appeared to be a radar transmitter array. Hahnsberg and the other officers were slowly pacing across the slab between the captured commandos and the machinery painting onto the slab and muttering or chanting as they did so, a brief breeze allowed Helen to hear the Enochian binding chants being said and her stomach lurched in dread, this was not going to end well. The orgone generators had loop aerials placed on their tops and sides and these started to spin. Hahnsberg had stood in the centre of the circle of symbols and placed a tall shiny metal pole into a socket in the concrete at his feet. He nodded at Braun who was stood behind a trussed commando. Braun produced a silvery knife and with a sudden motion lifted the head of the commando up and slit his throat. Blood gushed across the concrete and spread out in channels carved into the slab. The women all screamed and stepped back from the wire and tried to huddle as far as possible from the horrors in front of them. The chanting increased in volume as speakers started to relay what Braun and Weiss were chanting. Hahnsberg stood rigid in the centre and slowly the rasping Enochian spell he was weaving overlaid the drone. Helen could see that the dead commando, why couldn’t she think of his name? was also chanting in time to the noise. A patch of air above the staff that Hahnsberg was holding upright began to darken and swirl then popped into a sphere of deepest black, Helen watched as swirls or tendrils spread from the sphere to the prone commandos, the orgone generators and to the air above the cowering women. The radar array started to hum as Hahnsberg slowly turned to face North over the sea and still chanting slowly moved around and backward and forward until he appeared satisfied of the direction. The crew in the trucks then appeared and manhandled a large dish antenna until it was aligned with Hahnsbergs directions. Helens pendant started to pulse in time to the background chanting. She tried to shush it down but found her mind’s eye leaving the compound and flying over the sea, after a blur of speed she found herself hovering over a widespread line of merchant convoy ships. The background hum rose in volume and even out at sea she could hear Hahnsbergs chanting turn to shrieking as something sped from the sphere of blackness and struck the first ship which briefly flashed green. The deaths on the ship were mercifully swift to the onlookers as the entropovores devoured the compacted energy of the regular organic and metallic molecules and released the spent atoms to slowly dissolve into the sea. Subjectively though, to the living sophonts it took an eternity to die as each molecular bond was twisted and broken to dissipate its energy across the void. To the rest of the convoy it had looked as if the ship had broken and sank without warning, so they slowly began to take evasive action to avoid the mines or U boats that had just struck. Helen being carried along by her djinn guest got to savour the changes in energy of all the lifeforms on the ship as it dissipated into the sea while at the same time watch as Braun slit the throat of another commando. The horror of it all threatened to send her cowering back into the huddle of women behind her except that the realisation that their, and her, fear where being used to help power the spell began to piss her off. The deaths were not going to stop unless she did something and that made her seriously angry. She gripped her pendent and struggled to regain control of the djinn and its curiosity. She promised it something new, in exchange for a temporary loan of power. She clutched the wire and sort out a weakness. The generators powering the orgone transmitters were arranged symmetrically around the slab near each transmitter, she saw Braun walk slowly towards the next commando, and knew there was no time to be subtle. She focussed her power on the nearest generator, convinced a wire inside that it had no insulation so that it sparked to the fuel tank which was now convinced it held high octane aviation fuel and not diesel. The resultant explosion tore the generator through the orgone transmitter and across the magic circle just missing Hahnsberg but mashing Weiss into the next orgone transmitter which sparked and stopped. The black sphere and its tendrils started to waver as Hahnsberg started screaming in Enochian, the guards ran about and started shooting out at the wire boundary as if they were under attack. The splash of burning fuels caught Helen on the left arm and ignited her dressing, now the pain was making her extremely angry and she started her own counter chants as she became limned in amber light. The fuel tanks in the trucks and remaining generators decided to join in the fun and began exploding as well. The pain in her arm drove her to greater heights of anger and bits of truck and generators and bodies flew outwards from the site demolishing the radar array and wire barricades and at least one watch tower.

The sphere of darkness had winked out as the concrete slab was scoured of its symbols and sacrifices by the flames. Hahnsberg and Braun were gone, there were flames and chaos everywhere. Helen sank slowly through the air to the ground as the amber light around her flickered and died. Her legs gave way and she ended up kneeling facing the slab and the forest beyond it. Her djinn was still using her senses to watch the pretty patterns in the flames and the intensity of pain from the burns in her arm. She tried to rise but no reaction came from her muscles. She knelt there for an eternity before she felt hands grab her by the arms and drag her across the slab and the flames towards the woods and freedom beyond. The pain overwhelmed her mind so she ran on instinct to flee the horrors she hoped were only behind her.


	9. From Nordkap to Stockholm to Home

Chapter 9 from Nordkap to Stockholm to home

The burning fires behind her gave some light as Helen staggered through the forest trying to catch up with the fleeing shadows in front of her. The pain from her arm was excruciating and her vision kept going out of focus as she pushed through the conifers. There were still screams echoing out behind her and the fetid sweet smell of burning flesh surrounded her, she prayed fervently that it was not her but the pain from her arm and side was putting paid to that hope. She staggered on, her vision now only focussed on the shadows ahead of her, the world faded to grey and then the darkness claimed her as she fell screaming into the abyss and silence.

            The pain kept breaking through and waking her briefly to catch flashes of insanity, trees, stars in the darkened sky, a thin face shouting at her, the sickening pain and jolts as she was dragged across rough ground. Then darkness and then light, a green gloomy light but still light, Helen looked around to see that she was lying between two women fast asleep, and across from her was another woman sat under another tree watching intently the small group and the surrounding forest. Helen checked herself and found that her arm had now been tightly bandaged to her battledress and her uniform was even more muddy, bloody, burnt and tattered than she remembered. The watching woman appeared to be in a mix of clothing which gave no clues to who she was, well at least she can’t be a Nazi warlock thought Helen, as she sank back exhausted onto the ground and stared at the canopy of tree branches above her with its few chinks of light. Her last sight was of the stranger squeezing water from a cloth into her mouth and smiling.

            A jolt of pain woke her again, she was flat out on sloping ground and two skinny, dirty and exhausted looking women were bent over her and groaning. She looked up to see that the sun appeared to be sinking down over the hills back the way she had come.

“No, I need to get to the sea” she gasped and pointed back the way they had come, but a third women appeared and pushed her down onto the ground. She put a finger to her lips and shushed, then said in fractured English, “No Oma, Germans there, friend here”. The three women slumped down beside her as she struggled feebly to rise again, water dribbled into her mouth again, and the blackness rose to claim her again.

A different day and a different place, the air smelled different, quieter and closed in, she cracked open her eyes a little to see she was in a dim wooden shack or shelter. Again there was a strange woman, roughly dressed beside her on the hay strewn floor. A flare of light and a gust of wind revealed another woman entering the shed with a bucket. Thirst made Helen croak out and the figure came towards her, smiled and cupped some water from the bucket with her hands and into Helens mouth. The gasp of relief that water brought made the stranger smile and quietly mutter something Helen could not catch. She smoothed Helen’s hair down as she slumped back on to the ground. Her arm and side were now only dimly painful and she could feel the slow warm pulse of her pendent under her battledress. Since she did not pass out, Helen now took more interest in where she was and what the hell was going on.

 

            It had taken a long two months to get from the coast of northern Norway to the forest outside of Stockholm. The long and arduous trek over the moor and mountains of Norway was tough, the begging and stealing of food as they went made it worse. The avoiding of German and Norwegian police patrols at the border and finally slipping and sliding into Sweden. Then there began the fraught negotiations between her rescuers and gypsy families as she was passed from group to group. The awe and fear of what Helen’s pendent represented to them certainly helped in the tricky negotiations. The recuperation then the “work” to pay her way had seen her from the border and south through Sweden. Travelling by horse and cart was definitely slower but had the benefit that no one wanted to check her for documents, just move the family on when the work was done. She became just another dirty face in brightly coloured clothes. Slowly her companions and rescuers moved onto other groups leaving her alone in the crowd of gypsies as they made their way south.

            Her Romany appearance had got her the length of Scandinavia, but in this, the embassy quarter of Stockholm, her appearance was now a hindrance. She was still unacknowledged by the milling crowds, but not by the local police. There would be only a limited opportunity to get inside the embassy compound today or wait until she could steal some city clothing. She sidled further along the railings holding out her sprigs of heather and mumbling. She kept one eye on the gate and another on the men standing idly about on the opposite pavements. Were any of them watching out for her? Were any here to kill her? Why was she waiting? A young woman confidently strode past her towards the embassy gate, her heels clattered on the pavement and her brown hair and modern style marking her out. A heavy set figure loomed in front of her bringing her to a halt, she tried to step past but he blocked her path. Helen watched as the man studied the women’s face without smiling then stood aside with a tip of his hat and walked on a few strides, the young woman now flustered carried on down the street past the embassies. Helen saw it all, and slowly over next ten minutes eased her way down the street away from the embassy, desultorily waving her lucky heather at strangers who ignored her.

That was not what she looked like now, an afternoon and evening spent sewing, washing and dyeing both clothes and herself. Now the next morning, a hunched elderly woman glared at her from the windows reflection as he slowly shuffled towards the embassy gate with her walking stick and heavy bag. She passed unnoticed by the watchers and joined a small queue at the gate until the porter waved her through and she headed slowly up the steps. The disguise, helped with a glamour that Helen had spent the night practising, had aged her to obscurity. Inside the embassy hall she joined another slow queue until she stood at a counter opposite a bored young man, she pretended to search in her handbag which only contained her warrant card until he lent forward. Then she held it up into his face and using her voice of command put all her presence into bending his will, “Without a fuss take me through to the back office and bring me to the cultural attaché, you know the one”, she told him.

With a gulp and a sideways look he came around the counter took her arm and led her through a side door to another office and helped her into a chair. Then he left. Helen noticed that the office was minimally furnished with a desk, two chairs, a blotter; a picture of the King on the wood panelled walls and it even lacked a door handle on this side of the door.

Twenty minutes later a small bland middle aged man came in and sat at the desk opposite Helen. “Good morning, madam, my name is Brown I am a cultural attaché at this embassy how may I help you?” he said, while he studied her intently

“Well while you confirm my identity a cup of tea and something to eat would be nice. My name is Captain Helen Hunter, SOE, this warrant card should be enough to be getting on with. Look, don’t touch!“ she said as he reached out for her proffered card. His hand quickly withdrew as he studied the details; “Ah you know what it means then, good. Maybe that will speed things up a bit” she smiled at him.

“I will need to speak to the Ambassador and confirm this with London it may take some time. What is it you want here, Captain?” he enquired, while glaring at her.

“Why Mr Brown,“ Helen replied, as she took off her hat, wig and shoes and stretched out in the chair ”I want to go home!”

Tea and sandwiches arrived twenty minutes later and her coat, hat and wig were removed, through a hidden door in the panelling. The food certainly helped, the tea even more so but the thought that finally she might be safe, that she could for once relax after nearly three months of training, then war in the North, and the terror of escape, and the constant nerve shredding vigilance that had got her this far. Helen slumped back in the chair and slept.

Two hours later the ambassador entered the room followed by Brown. He stood behind the desk and smiled at Helen as she stirred awake to see a portly man but with intense blue eyes in a friendly face. “Well Captain you have brought a bit of excitement to a dull Wednesday, yes indeed. I have received three separate wires from London. It seems that the Foreign Office have no record of your presence in Sweden or even of your existence, the War Department deny any involvement of any SOE officers in a neutral country such as Sweden, and the last from SOE requesting that you be repatriated to London with all possible speed and secrecy. What is a poor official to do?”

“Well I would certainly prefer the last option” I quipped.

“Quite, and in the traditions of embassies everywhere you are a problem I will pass on to London for them to sort out. I assume you are the reason we appear to have everyone and his dog watching the place. So we will have to be careful. Luckily Brown here had you walk out the embassy an hour and a half ago.”

“Yes, Mrs Arbuthnott is always willing to put her amateur dramatics to a better use” intoned Brown.

“That only leaves the not insubstantial problem of getting you back to London. That I will leave to Brown and hopefully we will have you on your way in a week or so,” smiled the ambassador, “I wish you the best of luck Captain and goodbye” he said as he shook her hand and left.

“Well a week or two after all this time won’t be a hardship” I said to Brown as he sat down at the desk.

“Mmm I think we can do a bit better than that,” smirked Brown as a woman entered the room. “Ah Miss Smythe if you can take this young lady through and get her cleaned up and take her measurements, I will need her kitted out as a secretary with a clip board and attaché case within the hour. Can you also ask Mr Carsholton to come through and see me?”

Two hours later Helen and Carsholton were in the back of an embassy car speeding through the afternoon traffic in Stockholm on the way to Broma airport. She was every inch the efficient looking secretary.

“Well the plan is to get you to the freight terminal as my secretary. We will sort out the paper work at customs then drift through and have a natter with the pilots. They can get you on the plane, somehow, as I leave. Any problems then you just walk out with me and go back to the embassy.” Carsholton nervously outlined the plan for the third time.

“Don’t worry, Mr Carsholton just do everything as normal except this time I carry the bags and paperwork.” soothed Helen even as her nerves made her queasy. ”Why don’t you tell me about the freight and your job with it” I said as the airfield came into view.

“Well that’s it really. I’m surprised Mr Brown wanted to risk the arrangements we have with the Swedes in order to get you away, either you are important enough to risk going or too embarrassing to stay.” blurted Carsholton slightly red faced with a sideways glance at Helen.

“I think it is more the latter case” I replied as the car swept up to the customs office.

“Well now, if you just follow me and carry the clip board and attaché case. We will head through to the customs and clear the freight and paperwork first as normal. Then see the pilots.” Carsholton said to Helen as he left the car and headed inside the small building. I scurried after him with an air of flustered tolerance. The change in Carsholton was a revelation as he glad handed the customs officials and eased the paperwork through the bureaucracy while I stood in the background pretending to be busy ticking off items on the clipboard.

Eventually with a wave and a laugh he guided me past the customs office and towards an adjacent smaller building, where the airline office and pilots were kept. “Now the hard bit, I have to convince the pilots to take you. They would be well within their rights to tell us to bugger off and to not risk the cargo. Ah here they are.”

Helen was surprised as she had expected RAF personnel but the pilots had on matching navy suits and ties with a naval style peaked hats. One even had a piratical eye patch she saw, as they turned at their approach, Carshalton greeted them and introduced Helen as Miss Smith.

“Well that’s not very original Carsholton, especially as I have met Lady Helen before. Mind you that was back in 39 when I had both eyes, but you are still sight to please the eye I have left Helen” he said as he clasped her hand in both of his. “I am terribly sorry to hear about Eric and your loss, he was a good friend to me.”

“Thank you Piers, I am sorry it took a moment to recognise you, what happened to you?” Helen replied.

“Had my Spit shot out from under me in 40, lost a few bits and pieces and so I got passed around until I ended up here on the ball bearing run for this outfit. Frightfully hush hush and I have to have a civvy rank. Luckily the plane is a beauty or I would have told them to stick it. This is Giles, he is almost as good a pilot as I am, just more sensible. Well what can we do for you both?” he asked looking between Helen and Carsholton.

“Well totally unofficially of course the embassy would like your help in getting a certain person back to England as quickly as possible with a minimum fuss” said Carsholton with a nod towards Helen.

“Mmm I see,” replied Piers after a long drawn out moment as he stared at Helen and measured her up. “Giles can you take that spare flight suit of mine out to the plane when you’re dressed and then we will join you in a few minutes. Luckily Helen you seem to have lost a bit of weight and we are running a slightly lighter load on this run, so we will stash you in the hold. When we go out to the plane we will give you a tour then you can jump in the bomb bay and get dressed in the flight suit I just sent out with Giles. It’s a long flight so if you need the loo you had best go now, while I have a word with Carsholton.” said Piers as he guided her to a cubicle beside their office. Helen acquiesced and closed the door behind her. It did not really block out the bollocking that Piers gave Carsholton but it gave them privacy to pretend to argue it out. Helen went the loo and had a quick wash, to give them time to finish. When she came out Piers was now dressed in a flight suit and Carsholton looked suitably embarrassed.

“Well Helen walk with me and I’ll show you the world’s best white charger with which to rescue the fair maid” said Piers jovially, as he led her from the building and onto the concrete apron of the airfield. A gleaming white aircraft stood not far away. It was twin enginned and sleek looking in futuristic way, not what Helen had expected from her pre-war flights in biplanes.

“Isn’t she a beauty, she’s a Mosquito, flies like a dream and even faster than she looks. Even loaded up, we should still be faster than what the Luftwaffe can put up, so we should be back in Leuchars this evening just in time for a pie and a pint.”

“Well I will treat you to a slap up feed if you can get me back this evening Piers. But I do notice that your plane has no guns, we are still at war aren’t we?”

“Guns! Don’t need them Helen, they would only slow us down. Anyway pay attention, this is Sweden if we were armed there would be all hell to pay and the Swedes would put an end to the flights. The boffins say we need these ball bearings more than we need weapons. It seems that the machines that make the machines that make weapons can only be made with Swedish ball bearings. The way things are the Swedes will only sell to us if it’s a civilian business and if equal amounts are sold to the Nazi’s, who need them as much as we do. Of course Swedish neutrality only helps us till we get out of their airspace over the Skagerrak between Denmark and Norway then every German for hundreds of miles will be trying to kill us. So it’s your lucky day, we have a light load otherwise you would be staying here. Now pretend to be impressed as I show you the plane then nip up into the bomb bay and get dressed as Giles and I talk to Carsholton. Good luck and I’ll see you again this evening” Piers said

I squeezed down into a gap between the fuselage and the crates crammed into the converted bomb bay. It seemed to take a long time before anything else happened. Then the engines started up and the din was astounding, it got dimmer as the bomb bay doors winched closed. Then with a lurch the plane moved forwards and the noise got even louder as the engines revved higher and higher. The plane coasted along to the runway and turned west then the noise increased tremendously as the engines screamed out their defiance of gravity and the plane leapt forwards and screeched along the runaway and towards the heavens. A pulse of heat alerted Helen to her pendent. A tiny gap between the bomb bay doors allowed Helen and her passenger to see the ground blur then felt the lurch as the plane leapt into the air. With a roar of the twin engines the plane climbed higher and higher and the light from the gap turned paler as the ground receded below and they flew over the countryside. I quickly tore off some of the spare flight suit from the ankles of each leg and wrapped them around her head as a bizarre scarf, now at least the noise was tolerable and the cold would not freeze my ears off. I found a mask and oxygen bottle strapped to the side wall, which I put on. The small gap let me see that the farmland and lakes were falling further and further away as the plane calmly gained ever increasing height. My pendent pulsed warmly as my djinn took an interest in this new novelty. I finally relaxed as the last of the tension left me. That I no longer had any control over any events at all, meant that I could finally let go of the rigid self-control that had got me this far.

Helen could feel her exhaustion rising to meet her as tears filled her eyes. She finally felt safe even though this was probably the most dangerous part of the last eight weeks. The presence behind her pendent had become interested in the sensations of the flight so Helen acquiesced and allowed it a greater part of her senses. It greedily accepted the sights and sounds.

The smooth flight ended forty minutes later as with a shudder and a hard right turn the plane seemed to drop out of the sky, Helen grimly held on to the crates around her as the plane accelerated down towards the sea, the engine noise a surreally loud screaming. The slight gap between the bomb bay doors then revealed the sea to be frighteningly close as the plane levelled out and the engines screamed even more. Helen could swear she could feel ocean spray coming up into the bomb bay, but as she clung on to the crates she could only pray in fear as the pendent under her shirt pulsed with heat and her eyes turned an amber hue with entrancement. Such novelty would keep her guest enthralled for months.

A few hours later Helen was still praying out loud as sympathetic ground crew prised her out of the bomb bay and into a car with Piers and Giles who were laughing fit to burst at yet another survived flight. “Ah Helen you made it, now we can celebrate. To the mess James and pies and beer!!” giggled Piers and Giles together. Helen clung tightly to the seat of the Austin and vowed never to leave ground level again.


	10. winter 1941 London and betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen returns to London, to death and betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a work still in progress

 

Chapter 10 Winter 1941 London and betrayal again.

 

The autumn chill in London was something that always dismayed Helen. Having grown up in the tropics the slow slide into the seemingly never ending winter of Great Britain was always depressing. Doubly so now that she had left a Swedish autumn to arrive in time for one in Britain

On landing at Leuchars airbase in Scotland, she had what now seemed like her one night of freedom in the officers’ mess. The next morning a squad of unsmiling RMP’s escorted her to a train back to London. She was unceremoniously dumped in the female quarters of the unsavoury barracks behind Whitehall. Without uniform and id, she had just followed directions and was now sat on the lower bunk in a cold and drafty dormitory feeling sorry for herself. There then seemed to be a heated discussion in the corridor. The door opened and in stepped a familiar face who saluted

“Captain Hunter I presume” said Lieutenant Daphne Winters with a frown.

“Lieutenant,” I replied with a salute sensing something amiss in Daphne’s reserve.

“Well Captain if you would care to follow me” she answered and turned about down the corridor. I followed a bit dazed. Daphne was signing a clipboard and glaring at the corporal at the desk as she did so. She said nothing until we were outside the barracks on the street.

“Thank God it is you Helen. I had hoped so but was not sure until I saw you. Let’s keep walking. Quick there is a bus coming.” And with a quick trot they were on a red bus heading towards Trafalgar Square. There then followed a lot of scurrying about from bus to random bus and then a tube to Green Park. By now I had given up trying to question Daphne, damn her long legs and quick stride.

Surprisingly I was not returned to the barracks but delivered to my brother Toby’s house. The steps up to the door and then a warm welcome from Jenks finally reassured me I was home.

Three hours soaking in a bath and repeated hair washing eased the last of the grime from me. My evening was made complete when the friendly face of Daphne reappeared. I allowed Daphne to make a fuss of me for a while then we sat down for a meal prepared by Jenks.

“This meat is a bit oily Jenks, what is it?” I asked around a large plate of veg and a small piece of meat

“I believe it is whale ma’am,” he replied, “more wine?”

“Oh do eat up Helen; you need building up by the look of you. The rationing has been tightened up while you were away; things are getting tougher for the convoys in the Atlantic” Daphne explained. “Anyway, I have brought some news. You have orders to appear at Dansey House tomorrow at 10.00 for a debriefing. I only found out this evening as the message came for Commander Colhoun and I had to sign for it. It all seems pretty secretive, well more so than usual, Helen. So I have signed out for you a new uniform and some equipment that maybe handy, Jenks has put them in your room. The Laundry staff had no idea what has happened to you. Only that you left for Scotland and then were reported missing presumed dead. Toby and I were frantic with worry, I hope you don’t mind but I sent a telegram to him as soon as I found out you were on your way, don’t worry I was very discrete. He is in Southampton this week; I hope he comes back soon. Anyway what can you tell me about what has happened?”

“Why don’t we take the drinks through to the fire and then we can have a good chat” I replied as I got up and led Daphne through to the next room.

 

Bright an early next morning I was adjusting my uniform in the hall mirror as I waited on Daphne. The extra equipment she had brought for me was very surprising, which gave me some pause for thought about the situation in London since my absence began. Luckily Daphne had brought a satchel for me so my pockets weren’t too full and spoil the line of the uniform. The weight of the Browning 45 on my hip was heavier than I remembered but was reassuring after all this time. I felt much more formidable now, considering I had escaped from Sweden in someone else’s clothes and carrying only my tattered copy of the warrant card. I heard Daphne coming down the stairs and instantly felt frumpier; she was in full WRN uniform including the hat! And some heels! Surely she is tall enough already! Curse the army and their lack of flair I thought.

“Good morning Helen, you look every inch the hero”, Daphne smiled, “I called round the office earlier and organised a car for us, shall we go?”

I followed Daphne out the door, and there was the car, as Daphne approached Perks leapt out and opened the door for her, then she noticed that I was behind Daphne and squealed with joy and gave me a hug before I could react, then she recovered herself and leapt to attention and saluted, with the biggest smile I had seen in months on her face. The emotional spike had awoken my pendent which pulsed warmly under my shirt.

“Well thank you Perks, I am glad it’s you driving today, I know that I will be in good hands” I saluted and got in the car.

The drive through London traffic was non eventful, only buses and military vehicles were using the roads as petrol became impossible for the public to get. As the car approached Whitehall the number of uniforms walking on the street or guarding buildings increased dramatically.

The car turned into a familiar Georgian terrace, maybe which was why my eye was drawn to the pair of civilians stood near the corner. The men peered at the car as we went past then reacted suddenly and went for their concealed guns.

“Perks get us out of here” I screamed at her, she accelerated the car down the road, a spattering of shots hit the back window a split second after Daphne had pushed me onto the floor and landed on top of me.

A figure stepped out into the road in front of us and fired at the car hitting the tyres and engine, Perks accelerated and crashed into him then skidded hard as the tyres gave out and slewed the car round. The three women leapt out of the doors and took shelter on the floor behind the car. I could her shouts and running feet, I scrabbled at the satchel to get the HOG out just as Daphne and Perks popped up and let out a hammering fusillade of shots down the street, I lit it up and pumped some power into it so its effect spread out to them and the car. The street now appeared grittily dim and empty except for the dead figures lying in the road. Both Perks and Daphne were breathing heavily but still kept their guns outstretched and sweeping up and down the street.

“I think we got them Helen, you can put that out,” said Daphne.

“We will wait just a bit longer in case there was anyone else,” I hoarsely replied from the floor as I prepared a shield around the three of us. After the gunfire the only noises I could make out were the ticking of cooling metal and the drip of radiator fluid from the car. Dansey House and the buildings in its terrace flickered with a green glow as shields and wards pulsed in power around them.

The HOG slowly flickered out after 5 minutes and the wreck of the Austin faded back into view. Only then did soldiers appear in doorways and start to fill the street. I waited until Daphne had identified us to the Sargent in charge before dropping the shield completely. No sense in being too trusting. I looked around; Perks seemed to be recovering quickly as I nodded at her. Daphne appeared unruffled by the whole incident, whereas my uniform was now dishevelled and my stockings torn at the knees, my cap had rolled into the gutter. Perks brought it to me.

“Well if this is what it is like driving in London nowadays, I think I had better get you that armoured car, Perks. Thank you.” I managed to gasp out. So much for the returning hero, I had to get control of myself, and back in charge. Everything is a test, I thought.

“Well I think we have time to freshen up before the meeting. Lieutenant Winters, Sargent Perks with me. Sargent, carry on” I ordered and marched on towards Dansey House.

The three of us trooped up the stairs, Perks having appointed herself my bodyguard had glared at the door demon until it relented and allowed her in.

Ten minutes frantic activity in the washroom and Daphne and Perks had me dusted down and spruced up, I even gained a pair of nylons from the ever resourceful Daphne. That only left the debriefing, which should be interesting I thought as I waited the obligatory twenty minutes outside the door. Since the only people who knew where I would be this morning were on the other side of the door, then at least one of them wanted me seriously dead. Now all I had to do was find out who and why?

 

Work still in progress

 

 

 


	11. Summer 1942 Alexandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banished from Europe, Helen saves the day in Egypt but at terrible cost.

Summer 1942 First battle of El Alamain

Helen was fuming outside another office in another corridor in Army HQ in Alexandria. After her escape from Sweden, she was ignominiously posted to Delhi after losing the “pass the blame game” in London. Then being dumped in Port Said as her transport, thank Gods it was a ship, was rerouted to Egypt. Worse was finding that she was an inconvenience to be rapidly passed on to someone else or just to be ignored by the Army. After three days of this she had ended up in here in Army HQ. Her frustration was butting up against the air of panic as distracted officer passed her onto to officer after officer. Rumours that Rommel was only 200 miles away or maybe only 50 rattled around the corridors. She was stood by a group of empty desks and phones in a slightly wider corridor, the clerks had taken files outside for burning.  
A door opened, and a Colonel leant out and shouted “Smith, find me someone who can speak Indian on the double”.  
“Captain Hunter, SOE, Colonel, I can speak Hindi and enough Urdu to get by. Can I be of assistance?” Helen replied “Smith and the rest appear to be outside burning all your files. Is there a problem, Colonel?”  
“Damn right there is a problem Captain, get in here” barked the Colonel  
Helen tidied up her uniform as she strolled into his office, pulling her browning automatic into a more prominent position. Having a gun certainly distracted anyone from thinking about any other “talents” she might have, and already having a gun stopped most people from raising the issue of whether she should have a gun. Royal Proclamation or not the British were too polite to cause a fuss.  
“Well Captain, I need you to take these orders up-to the barracks outside town there is a regiment of Indian Colonial troops there. I want you to get them organised and ready to move in a hour, I will get trucks arriving to take them to a railway junction at El Alamain a few hours west up the coast road. They are to hold the junction until relieved.” At this point the Colonel finally looked up from writing his orders to look at Captain Hunter, snatched up his glasses and said, “But you’re a girl”  
“Why thank you for pointing that out Sir. I had always suspected as much!” replied Helen with very little sarcasm, it had been a long day and her heart wasn’t in it.  
“But,,, but you’re…”  
“I am with SOE sir, it’s what we do” interrupted Helen “You said something about new orders, Sir?”  
He rallied magnificently “Well Captain Hunter was it? Since my staff seemed to have buggered off, you will have to do. Take these orders up to the barracks and find someone to get them wogs on the road to protect that railway junction. Find a driver and a vehicle outside and get going.”  
Helen saluted briskly and left him to his unthinking racism.  
Outside was the kind of army chaos that Helen liked to take advantage of.  
“Sergeant!” she bellowed and as if by magic one appeared. “I need a driver, and a vehicle with enough fuel, water and rations for 3 days. I’ll be going upcountry, what do you recommend?”  
“Well Ma’am I will have a carrier, stores and driver ready in 10 minutes if you have the orders.” He replied.  
Helen opened a pocket and flipped out her warrant card and held it up to his eyes. The compulsion on the card was more than enough to tilt the sergeant in her favour.  
“Yes Ma’am” he saluted and loud organising occurred.  
Ten minutes later Helen was holding on as a carrier rattled on its tracks through the streets and towards the barracks.

“Well where is it then Corporal?” asked Helen as she surveyed the bleak dusty field with a single tent in it. “You are supposed to take me to the Indian barracks!”  
“Soverdehgerl!” he said again in an impenetrable scouse accent, this time pointing at the solitary tent.  
The tent flap opened and a face peaked out then withdrew.  
Helen huffed and climbed down from the carrier, the heat was intense. She was caked in dust and sand was itching in places it should not be, and she was getting more and more irritated by what looked to be another prank to waste her time and get her out of the way. She briskly walked across the dusty stretch of ground between whitewashed stones which at least reassured her she was on a military site. Two strides from the tent and a young lieutenant gawkily unfolded out of the tent flap and saluted her.  
“Sir! Lieutenant Park, 3rd Indian Volunteer Reserves, at your service.” He said while looking over her shoulder at the carrier only to see the driver light up a cigarette and start boiling up some tea.  
“At ease Lieutenant, I have orders from Alexandria Command for your superior officer. Is he inside?” Helen replied as she gestured to the tent.  
“Ah, eh no, not as such, eh as it were.” stuttered the by now extremely red faced Park as he returned his attention to her. Helen glared at him some more. “Captain Johnston was recalled to Alexandria three days ago following an incident with some brandy and a visiting Padre. Eh, I’m sure it was all a terrible misunderstanding and he will return soon. Can I help you eh Captain?” he blurted out.  
“I have fresh orders for you and your men, but Lieutenant where are they?” she asked, as she gazed around the desolate field baked brown by the sun and studded with rows of exposed stones. Helen pulled the orders pack from inside her uniform jacket.  
“Oh I have most of the men stood down, and downstairs and just a squad patrolling the perimeter.” He said pointing in towards the tent.  
Helen gave him an old fashioned look but intrigued stepped into the paltry shade of the tent, which contained two small desks and a stairwell down into the ground.  
“We have been here about 6 months and the tents we had, they were just not up to the job, so one of the sergeants had the idea to dig trenches and cover them to make some better quarters. Quite lucky really as it kept the lads busy and so we extended it out a bit.” said Park, as he led her down the steps into the noticeably cooler tunnel. It was about ten feet deep and covered with what looked like canvas from the now ex tents. There were gaps in the canvas every 20 feet or so to increase the light and ventilation. The trench stretched off into the distance in both directions, curious heads were now popping out of the walls and gazing at her.  
“We were quite lucky as this field must once have been a village or something as we found quite a few mud brick cellars and such like, so the Sergeants sort of extended them and linked them all together. Once we cleared out the junk we now have a proper barracks for the men. Very cosy, we just have to keep an eye out for the scorpions. The little blighters keep trying to get in.” explained Park as he led her down a cool corridor and through a curtain into a spacious side room. An even younger looking second lieutenant leapt to attention from behind his desk as he saw her enter.  
“Captain this is second lieutenant Langton.” introduced Park. “Now you mentioned something about new orders?” a now more confident sounding Park asked. ”Corporal get some tea for the Captain and send for the sergeant major”  
Helen handed over the package to Park as the corporal scuttled from behind his desk glaring at her chest and mumbling to himself, ran off down the corridor.  
“I take it then you two are the only officers on site?” Helen queried.  
“Oh yes” said Langton “we both joined up in Delhi and pretty sharpish we got posted to Egypt with the reserves. We have mainly been patrolling the streets and guarding the gates on night watch these last few months but the lads are very keen to have a crack at Rommel” he burbled on.  
Park had gone quite pale as he read the orders in silence, but then was interrupted as the sergeant major and the rest of the senior NCO’s arrived.  
Helen turned towards them to catch them staring at her chest before they bolted to attention. Where Park and Langton looked like sixth formers playing at soldiers Helen could tell that these men were more soldierly. Imposing scarred Sikhs to a man they bristled with a martial air, only let down as they kept trying to sneak a peek at her chest.  
Oh for pity sake they are not that big. How long have these guys been in the desert? Helen thought  
“Sergeant-Major, I have new orders, so have the men assembled and kitted out for action right away. We will need to relocate to a new base within the day. There should be trucks arriving upstairs so get some men to check them out and then start loading everyone up as soon as possible. We are going up the line to engage the enemy. You know what to do, so carry on and get the men organised. Check the carrier is still there so we can get rid of the pen pusher lady” chirruped Park in Hindi  
A brief burst of Hindi from the Sergeant Major sent the other NCO’s off at a run leaving him behind.  
“Well I’ve just about had enough of this Lieutenant, I am not a pen pusher, I am from SOE and have seen more action than you could imagine and you still have not got me a cup of tea!” bellowed Helen in Hindi, as she leaned over the desk to confront the now stunned Park, who now leaned back in his seat in shock. As she glared at him she watched as his gaze was slowly dragged away from her face to look at her chest. Before she could berate him some more she finally noticed that his gaze was fixed on her pendent which had slipped out of her uniform and was now slowly pulsing in dim amber flashes on her chest.  
“Don’t ask or I will have to kill you, lose lips sink ships and all that, Lieutenant. It seems to me that you will need my help in more ways than one, especially if that was your best effort at Hindi.” She slowly said to him as she straightened up and pushed the pendent back inside her shirt.  
“Sergeant major get that corporal to get me that tea and then bring your roster lists, maps and store requisition sheets in. We have some planning to do.” bristled Helen.  
“Yes honoured Priestess Captain” smiled the Sergeant major.

 

A busy hour later, Helen finished the draft plan with Park, Langton and Sergeant Major Singh  
“And that lieutenant is why we are officers and we don’t go rushing off into the desert on the first truck to turn up.” said Helen. “Langton go with the sergeants and get organised on this list, sick and non-combatants are to remain here with the non-essential supplies and act as base guards. We will need to be ready to go in less than two hours. Start loading rations and water as soon as the trucks arrive and remember to spread them out so not all the water is in the truck that breaks down. Now Park explain to me again why we don’t have any weapons.”  
“Eh Alexandria HQ insisted since we were only patrolling the town after dark that it would be prudent to limit the squads to 5 rifle rounds each. They were quite insistent that we would not need any more since we were so far behind the lines and it would prevent any unwarranted excitability from the troops and such like..” Park slowly wound down his ridiculous explanation as even he couldn’t face the blatant racism of it, especially with the looks Hunter and Sargent Major Singh gave him.  
“Well it looks like we will have to go and get some then gentlemen, bring those orders Park and Sargent Major rustle up a squad or two and we will take the first two trucks. Let’s go and do some shopping.” ordered Helen as she headed out the office and along the corridor, trailing a bemused Park.  
Once “upstairs” and out the tent she was glad to see the trucks had arrived and her carrier was still there. The Indian troops were milling about busily moving supplies into trucks as the sergeants harried them.  
She could feel now her pendent as it greedily fed on the air of intention and excitement around her. It had not been this attentive since that terrible night in Norway, a lifetime and many months ago. She ignored the fact that the nearest troops had tried to prostrate themselves before her in prayer until booted back to work by the sergeants. Helen walked up-to the carrier and startled the corporal from his tea drinking and letter writing.  
“Wozzamarragerl!” he spluttered.  
Helen ignored this since she did not understand it and ordered him to get ready and to take them to the HQ depot.  
“Yeralrightalrightden, keepyerhairon!” he muttered to himself as he started the carrier up.  
“Priestess Captain, all is ready.” said Sergeant Singh quietly from behind her. “Is your driver from Poland?” he queried.  
“No I don’t think so. He may be from England I think, but if you speak slowly enough he seems to understand you” replied Helen.  
“How amazing England must be to have so many languages. Maybe one day, I will go there.” murmured Singh.  
“Well let’s make a move, Sergeant you follow in the trucks, Lieutenant Park if you don’t mind, with me in the carrier.  
With a clatter of tracks and trucks their little convoy sped off into the dust and heat, back towards Alexandria.

Helen left Park and Singh at the weapons shed and strolled across to what looked like the personnel supplies. If she was going to steamroller Park into letting her go up the line with them she would need to make some preparations. Trousers, boots, toilet paper some blankets and some spare Nuffields just in case, were at the top of her list. She even managed to charm a spare kit bag for it all as well, which she placed back in the carrier with the rest of her kit.  
There was no sign of Park and the Sargeant Major. The squad and her driver were sat looking glumly about round the back of one truck brewing up more tea. Her driver flicked his head towards the imposing doors of the weapons shed.  
Helen strode in to see that army bureaucracy had stopped their plan in its tracks. The demon behind the counter was stood arms crossed, steadfastly ignoring Parks as he spluttered himself purple in the face about orders which he waved at the quartermaster’s clerk. Singh looked as if he was about to reach over the counter and wrench the clerks head right off.  
Helen plucked the orders from Park’s hand and placed them on the counter,  
“These are the direct and legal orders from HQ ordering “us” to the lines with all men and equipment and in due speed” she tapped the orders on the counter to get his attention on them, as she slipped her warrant card from her pocket. As his gaze travelled back up to her with a smug smile she opened the warrant full in his face and continued “This is my legal authority to compel you to assist me in the furtherance of my legal duties, and supply the men with the weapons they require.” Helen was slightly impressed that the clerk did not immediately cave in as the warrant grabbed his brain and fought with the bureaucracy demons in him. “I will of course sign all the requisition dockets for them.” this pushed him over the edge and with a sigh a clipboard was produced which she initialled.  
“Well sergeant we need guns, lots and lots of machine guns.”

Several hours of frenetic activity got Helen and her convoy to a small railway junction along the coast road a few hours from Alexandria. The excitement of organising and making things happen had kept Helen exhilarated enough that she could put to one side the fact that much of an army was heading away from where she was going to. To keep “her” troops busy she had them servicing as many weapons as they could break out of the crates. She was busy moving up and down the convoy’s line in the carrier, cajoling troops, keeping them on the correct route at deserted junctions and once pulling a truck from a ditch with the carrier.  
It was a disappointment to arrive at the railway junction, a deserted forsaken place on a flat plain overlooking the coast road a mile away. The line looped down from behind some dunes and between a cliff, then passed by some sidings and a shed that called itself a railway station and then arrowed down the coast towards Alexandria.  
“Well, Lieutenant we are here, now how do you and the Sergeant Major propose we defend this dump. It appears to be just another patch of desert.” Helen spoke to Park.  
“Well the options are obvious, I suppose we have to assume what Jerry will bring to bear. I propose we set up some linked trenches that cover the main lines of approach to the station, some mortars and heavy machine guns on those higher dunes over there and that we take over the station as a central position, it should have some electricity for the radios. I would set demolition charges on the tracks and points to disrupt the tracks just in case we have to withdraw. The trucks I will position behind the station in that gully so some of us will be able to retreat down to the coast road if it gets a bit too hairy. Of course some artillery or anti-tank would be useful but beggars can’t be choosers, and all that” Park wound down as the implications startled to settle in, and the thought that most of his command including him were not going to make it through the next few days loomed in front of him.  
“Well that’s a good start, Park, why don’t you get the Sargent Major to sort out the dispositions and you and Langton set up the HQ in the station and start thinking about how you would attack this place and how to stop yourself” Helen interrupted him with a glance and a nod at Sergeant Major Singh “I will take the carrier back down to the road and see what I can rustle up for you”.  
3 hours later a regiment of artillery, 25pdrs, rolled up in their trucks and were dispersed on the rise behind the station.  
The Indian troops were still digging trenches as the light started to fail, and Helen had not returned. Park had men dispersing as much water, food and ammunition as could be done while the rest slogged away with shovels. Then the rattle of tracks alerted him to a spreading cloud of dust near the coast road. “Damn, just as things are going well the damn Germans have to turn up”, he thought.  
The cloud of dust and noise reached the junction at the coast road and turned towards them. The noise could only be tanks thought Park as he watched the more sensible soldiers dive into the trenches they had been digging while the rest turned to watch the approaching dust. The sergeants and NCO’s ran up and down the lines galvanising the men with shout s and kicks to get them preparing a last minute defence. Then popping out of the dust sprang the carrier with Helen perched on top waving a flag at him. The rattle of tracks increased, as behind her a line of a dozen or so of the largest tanks Parks had ever seen clattered towards the station. They bristled with guns and looked very imposing as they shuddered to a halt near the station. He watched as Helen dismounted the carrier and collected a few of the tankers and then made her way towards him.  
“Ah there you are Parks, you mentioned you wanted some anti-tank, will these do instead?” Helen smirked at him.

Later that night Helen sat alone for a few minutes of peace and quiet in a hole in the ground, trying to get her thoughts together. The other officers had got together and produced what looked like a workable plan to defend the station.  
Trenches were dug and extended for the infantry. The Grant tanks, she had found were dug in and Park had sacrificed most of the fuel in the reserve trucks to salvage another four that had run out of fuel on the road. The artillery was set up and observers were posted into the desert, communications with Alexandria were secured. So before Park could remember to try and send her back to Alexandria in the carrier, she had driven off to the southern end of their defensive position do her more traditional duty. Although she was an officer and a stranger to them, many of the men knew or remembered what her pendent represented. She then spent several hours going through the trenches, casting fortunes for favoured children, giving blessings to families far away, curing minor ailments, giving them the chance to talk of worries or fears, telling tales and leading songs, giving hope that they would survive to see their homes again. Her pendent glowed an amber light as it sipped the emotional energy from frightened troops and stored up the newness of today’s events. Energy that Helen might have to draw on later if the worst happened.  
The darkness was illuminated only by the stars and the dull light of her driver’s paraffin stove as he brewed up another round of tea, the cold was now getting to her so she go out the hole and found him and his carrier crouched in an empty tank emplacement the troops had dug.  
“Ereyeraregirlgetdisdownyerlike.” He muttered at her. She took the proffered cup hoping he meant her to drink the tea. She still had no idea what he was saying.  
“Demgermanswillbeeresoon” he muttered again. This time Helen could hear the distant sound of engines, as the darkness gave way to the dawn.

She was now sat in another hole, it might have been the same one as last night. She had lost track of how many she had hidden in. The heat and dust had sapped her energy and she was eating whatever godawful stuff in a tin her driver gave her and drank more of his awful tea, and blessed his dear heart at the feast, however did he manage it? The first attack had come at dawn as the German infantry were ambushed by her troops and forced to pull back. Less than an hour later they tried again but this time with artillery. They were repulsed again but this time there were a lot more dead and wounded. She was in the first aid post when the worst of the slaughter began. The artillery exchange seemed immense on both sides. Two of the defending tanks were already burning and smoke stretched across the desert battlefield.  
On the third attack panzers appeared from the coast road and the desert to attack from both sides. The tanks duelled at ever closing range as German troops forced their way forwards and tried to assault the trenches. The constant roar of mechanised death could not deaden the sound of screaming from men on all sides. The panzers were stopped and forced back but the one of the outer most trenches had to be retaken from the German infantry by an improvised counter attack. The death toll and wounded increased ever higher. Her pendent now glowed constantly as it absorbed the emotional turmoil around her and fed on the raw experiences in the atmosphere.  
She found Lieutenant Park later that afternoon in what was left of the station house, just as he finished sending messages back to Alexandra command.  
“Ah Captain, you are still here I thought you had gone back to base. HQ say to hold here as reinforcements should arrive tonight or by dawn. Things look a bit sticky as the Sergeants report we have lost about a third of the men dead or wounded, Langton died in the last attack, we are down to two tanks and the artillery are down to their last few salvo’s and then they will pull out. I am afraid it does not look too good.” He petered out with a choking cough. He looked as shell shocked as she felt.  
“Well Park I think it is time I helped out with some tricks of my own. The Germans won’t attack until they have refuelled and armed their tanks so that should be just before dusk. I think we might have time for a bit of reconnaissance. I will take some men forward and if we see the German position we can lay down a barrage onto their armour and fuel dump. You will have to hold here but get a plan ready with the sergeants for when you have to pull out.” She told him, and left to have another look around to see if any alternatives presented themselves to her. Anything but the dreadful horror she had already envisioned.  
An hour later she was down to one plan but only told Park half of it. To wait for her signal flares and then lay down the artillery barrage at her position then use the tanks for cover and retreat if the Germans then attacked the trenches.  
She already had got the sergeants to move the dead and seriously wounded to the outermost trench and pull the men back closer to defend the station.  
She found her driver and his carrier and tried to get him to show her how to control it.  
“Behavegirl. Yernotgettingmecar. Justgerrondebackandoyerstuff,” he growled at her as he nodded at the rear seat.  
“Okay, but if you stay you have to stay in the carrier, whatever happens don’t get out. It would not go well.” I told him as he stubbornly settled into the driver’s seat and pulled his helmet tighter. He definitely paled as I pulled out my pendent, a knife and started to chant. I walked slowly around the carrier and smeared blood from my thumb onto the corners and sketched some symbols onto the sides. I climbed in and intensified my chants so that now their sound patterns started to interfere and build into the pattern I had hoped I would never need again. The pendent glowed brightly and I could feel the power flowing from it into the multidimensional standing wave I was building around the carrier. At a kick and a nod he started the carrier up and it trundled slowly forward into the dusk and past the final trench.

The smell of all the dead bodies and the moans of the almost dead slowly faded as the power steadied in the wave and I changed my chant to what I now knew to be what the specialists at the Laundry called Enochian. The Gloom deepened around the carrier as it slowly cleared the last of the trenches and stood facing west. The chanting was getting rough on my throat but drawing more power from the pendent I opened the way for the feeders in the night. They flowed down the songlines I had set up and into the trenches where they quickly found the dead and dying and became as one. Mercifully for me the moans of the wounded quickly ended but were replaced by the psychic shrieks of hunger and anger as I forcibly bound the feeders into the husks of the now dead soldiers Indian, British and German alike. The flickers of green light as they spread down the trenches behind me were my only guide to how terribly well it was working.  
The flickering red sparks were a puzzle but my driver realised we were being shot at and put the carrier into gear and startled trundling forwards. The German attack had begun. I dragged my concentration back to my chanting and forced the feeders to follow. Their hunger for more was held in check by their fear of the presence in my pendent. They followed me over the frigid black sands of a totally different plane as the carrier led them on to the desert to meet the attacking force. The carrier, though warded from the feeders and shielded from human view, was not immune to stray fire and shrapnel rattled the sides. The force of my will dragged the feeders over the last rise on a distant desert until they caught sight of the warm bodies rushing towards them on this desert.

The incoming fire was heavy and accurate but ineffectual as you can only be killed once and the feeders propelled the battered flesh past my carrier and rushed into the advancing Germans. As more bodies now succumbed to the feeders I had to increase my efforts in the chants to propel them ever forwards and away from the British lines, the power flowed easily from the pendent and my guest watched on amused at my games with the lesser spirits. The horror around me was immense as the feeders fed on my enemy, infantry, tankers, gunners it made no difference. The Germans were no longer firing at the British trenches but had now taken to firing amongst themselves as the feeders moved amongst them. It did them no good. The shrieks and screams of the dying echoed around me as my anger and resentment rose. How dare they attack me and mine, how dare they treat me this way, who were those idiots in London who wanted me put safely out of the way and ignored. Sparks of amber light were now rushing out and striking at the feeders goading them as their fear of me spread through the battlefield the living and the dead all broke in to a run towards the German positions. Flashes of energy and sparks of gunfire flickered all around. They made little impact on me as I lost myself in the flows of power and anger in keeping the chant going and compelling the feeders around me in their slaughter. The power flow inflamed every part of my body as my fears and resentments and anger burnt their way out of my psyche. I felt more and more wonderful and its cause less worrisome as the darkness fell completely around me, the carrier trundled on at walking speed, the eye of a storm of death and destruction.

The carrier tipped sharply forward as it drove into a gully and threw me over the side. It crashed in to the other side of the gully and stalled. The driver was dead. I stood unsteadily up, the shrieking in my mind quietened until all I could hear was the distant crackle of gunfire and more engines close by. I groggily climbed up the other side of the gully and stood unsteadily looking down over a lorry park of some sort. My feeders were no longer present. The crash must have broken the spell and compulsion and sent them back. The vivid taste of horror and power swirled around inside me; I vaguely remember something I had to do. There were trucks in front of me, shouldn’t they be back with Park at the station? Trucks? I fumbled for the flare gun tucked into my belt. It felt very heavy, why do I need this again? The flare made a very pretty red streak into the air as I fell backwards into the gully. It lit with a flash and very slowly sank back to the ground. When the artillery barrage shattered the air and bounced me around the gulley I passed out.

  
Pain, pain filled me and I struggled up into the brightness. Sand and pebbles sluiced off me as I sat up. The dazzling light hurt, my left side hurt like hell, again. I was gasping for a drink, where was my driver with the tea? Even the crackling and whispers I could hear were hurting. The desert stopped spinning long enough for me to focus on the broken remains of my driver and his carrier. The breeze shifted slightly and the stench triggered memories. I vomited all over my lap. I took a few minutes to ineffectually rub the vomit off with sand. I managed to get to my knees, I could see a water bottle hanging from the wrecked carrier. If I could get my legs to work I could reach it. It was only a million miles away. The water was warm but it would do. Holding grimly on to the side of the carrier, I slowly forced the world to stop spinning around me. A few more deep breaths and I might just be able to walk. I turned around and looking around the gully, I found the source of the whispering in my ears.  
A small lorry loaded with more machine guns than should be allowed was parked at the edge of the gully above me. A group of the most piratical looking yobs were perched on it but what dragged my attention kicking and screaming towards him was the nattily suited Mr Angleton who sat in the front passenger seat.  
“Well Helen” the whispering continued as he smiled at me “You have been busy!”  
“Ahh Mr Angleton”, I croaked out as my legs gave way and I slumped slowly down the carrier to the ground. “I appear to have killed some people” I sobbed as tears flowed down my face. I looked up and he was stood in front of me. With the tip of his umbrella he poked aside the dust to reveal my pendent slowly glowing amber as it hung across my tunic.  
“Yes Helen, a lot of people. Most of them now more dead than would normally be the case.” He mused quietly. “I think it would be best if you were to come home with me, and then we can let the Army sort out the rest of the killing on their own.”


	12. 1942 Delhi India

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief synopsis of after action report on regrettable incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secret document on destruction of village where Helen acquired metaphysical enhancements.

Delhi , India 1942.

Restricted file for attention of staff cleared for Case Chapatti Blue only

Lethal defences have been authorised for the protection of this file.

If you are not certified Double Black or above, close this folder, call security and remain where you are.

 

Full details of operation and after action reports are only available to senior auditor staff.

Disclosure of any details from this file to Subject Darjeeling will be met with extremely prejudicial force.

Before turning the page you must sign with sanguinary ink your code name and service number, failure to do so will result in incapacitating injury.

 

Code name

| 

Service number

| 

Date  
  
---|---|---  
  
Gentle

| 

012010

| 

25/08/42  
  
Cassandra

| 

   045 379

| 

27/08/42  
  
Teapot

| 

110110110

| 

30/09/43  
  
Agamemnon

| 

034078

| 

   25/01/45  
  
Teapot

| 

110110110

| 

03/02/45  
  
 

| 

 

| 

   
  
 

| 

 

| 

   
  
 

| 

 

| 

   
  
 

 

Redacted and Abridged after action report 11/07/42

 

Following orders received, the reconnaissance of village (redacted, now to be referred to as Chapatti) was undertaken by elements of 13th Nepali Regiment seconded to SOE, Delhi.

Concerns that the Japanese invasion of Burma would soon encroach upon Eastern India, orders were prepared to evacuate the site Chapatti.

Initial contact with village elders proved unhelpful and villagers were reluctant to accept resettlement.

Prolonged protests over the subsequent days led to decision for enforced evacuation of civilian population of the village and preparation of measures to prevent capture of site by Imperial Japanese Forces should they break through in Burma.

Escalating protests unfortunately led to incidences of violence. The threat of metaphysical weapons being deployed against troops led to decision to use coercive force to ensure acquiescence of civilian population to lawful evacuation orders.

The preparation of the village for destruction provoked a militant response from a section of the populace and unfortunately live fire was initiated by troops and casualties were sustained amongst the civilian population. The remaining villagers withdrew to a complex of caves and ruins outside the village to continue their protest.

Troops were used to evacuate them from the ruins. Casualties unfortunately were heavy but troops managed to contain the remaining villagers and their elders into a cave complex at the rear of the site.

The village was then prepared for demolition and as per standing orders and was levelled on date (redacted).

This provoked the remaining militants in their unlawful protest and before rioting or use of metaphysical weaponry could be deployed against the surviving troops the cave complex entrance was destroyed with explosive charges.

The few prisoners were redeployed to separate military prisons in south and west India.

The remnants of 13th Nepali Rifle regiment were disbanded and dispersed to front line regiments in Burma.

In view of the threat of these civilian assets and site Chapatti falling into Imperial Japanese Forces control, all actions taken by officers and men at Chappatti on (redacted) are condoned and no further investigations into this incident will be permitted, by order of Imperial High Command, Delhi.


End file.
